


Miraculous: Tales of Reverser and Mightillustrator

by caelestislux



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien and Marinette are still in this though, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - No Akuma (Miraculous Ladybug), Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Anxiety, Aromantic Asexual Alix Kubdel, Basically just Marc and Nath's comic personas, Bisexual Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Canon Rewrite, Gay Marc Anciel, Love Square but it's Marc and Nathaniel, M/M, Marc is in Nath's class, Misunderstandings, Social Anxiety, Social Impostor Syndrome, The villains are just like regular comic book villains, They just don't have powers or anything, They're the only heroes though, different main characters, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 34,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelestislux/pseuds/caelestislux
Summary: Marc Anciel was already dreading his first day of school before he made a fool of himself in front of one of the coolest people he'd ever met. Then he found himself with a journal that gave him a new appearance and whole set of powers that he had no idea how to work. He never asked for this, he just wanted to impress Nathaniel, who he seems to have developed a crush on. Still, Marc's new look may have given him an outlet to avoid his anxieties.Nathaniel Kurtzberg hadn't been planning on making new friends, but he couldn't help but be drawn to the strange boy he'd met in the courtyard. He was a writer, exactly what Nathaniel needed for help with his comic! But then, when his new pen gives him the power to bring his drawings to life and, he decides to become a hero like he's always dreamed, he finds himself enamored with his new heroic partner who goes by the name Reverser.
Relationships: Alix Kubdel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marc Anciel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg & Alix Kubdel, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Comments: 97
Kudos: 140
Collections: MarcNath Fics!





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a guilty pleasure idea of mine that I've been thinking about for a while. It's basically a completely separate universe, where Marc and Nathaniel's lives take a completely different turn when they gain their own hero personas. I can't promise updates will be too frequent, but hopefully they won't be infrequent either.

First day of school. Nerve-wracking, as always.

Marc Anciel had just spent a glorious summer in his room, writing stories to his heart’s content. Even when his parents managed to drag him outside, he’d be right back in his room as soon as possible, eager to add the next section or chapter to whatever story he was working on at the moment. He didn’t need to live a fabulous life; he could receive the exact same amount of enjoyment from writing about characters suspiciously similar to himself. They could go on adventures on his behalf, getting into all sorts of trouble that Marc wouldn't have to face himself, and if it truly got stressful, he could just close the notebook and open another one to start a new story. 

But now school was starting again, and with it came the anxiety over everything. Even as Marc stood by the door, facing the rest of the school, he started to wonder. What class would he be in? Where would he sit? Would he have any friends? Would anyone even talk to him at all? What if he was getting food at lunch and tripped, spilling his tray all over himself? What if . . . ?

Too many questions.

Marc could already feel his heart pounding through his shirt, so rather than risk an anxiety attack, he made a beeline for the stairs that lead to the second floor of the school. That was his place of safety, the place where he would feel secure when all else failed. Somehow it gave off the same enclosed vibe as his own room, even though he was well aware he was both in the open and in the position to become a target for mockery. But he could write there, and that was really all that mattered.

He kept his walk steady, shuffling to the stairs in this hunched-over manner that wouldn’t draw much attention to himself. His old grey hoodie had worn out from the year before, and the only one he had was bright red, which really didn’t help with the whole “blending-in” thing. It had a hood he could cover his face with though, and that was good enough. In situations like the current one, he’d pull his hoodie over his head to the point where it would shade his eyes, effectively looking rather anonymous. And it seemed to be working, as no one spoke to him or said his name, not that many people knew his name in the first place. He was almost to the stairs now, where he’d be safe and comfortable.

And then . . .

He ran right into someone.

As a reaction to the collision, the person dropped everything they were carrying, which turned out to be a lot of paper and pencils. The papers scattered across the floor. Marc reeled backwards, only to hear a sickening crunch as he stepped on a pencil. At the panic of breaking the other person’s possession, he lost his balance and hit the ground with a thud. 

Well, everything he had been afraid of just happened. The fact that Marc could breathe signified that he wasn’t having an anxiety attack or anything, but maybe he was in shock? Or at least it felt that way, like he was floating and nothing around him was actually occurring. 

The other person held out a hand and Marc took it gratefully, the person-to-person contact pulling him back to reality. He’d messed up, and he deserved anything the other person was going to dish out. Still, Marc didn’t dare look the other person in the eye.

As soon as he was on his feet, Marc attempted, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay! My fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” The other person’s voice was male, and he seemed to be in a pretty good mood for just having had his things spilled across the ground. 

The kindness in his voice made Marc look up to meet his eyes. The other boy was his age, with shaggy red hair that covered half his face and brilliant blue-green eyes. He was wearing what could be best described as “artsy meets professional”, with a blazer over a t-shirt and purple jeans. Oh, and his expression was twisted in concern.

The crunch of the pencil replayed in Marc’s mind, bringing him back to the present. “N-no, it was my fault. I wasn’t watching either. I couldn’t see to the side with my hood on, and . . . well, you know. I, uh, broke a pencil. I can buy you a new one, though.” 

Even as Marc talked, he got to his knees, gathering some of the papers together. Papers, he noticed, that had sketches of people on them. Sometimes it’d be a portrait, while other times it’d be more of a comic format, though the speech bubbles were blank. Some of the people looked like people Marc knew from school, not that they knew him. 

The other boy bent down beside him to assist in collecting his things. “No, really. I have plenty, and it was my fault anyway. I wanted to show the art teacher some of my drawings from the summer, but I think I brought too many.”

“They’re beautiful.” Marc blurted. Immediately he felt his cheeks grow hot. “Sorry. Your drawings, I mean. They have so much detail, especially with the shading. And the comic ones are really professional. You must put a lot of work into your art.” Marc’s anxiety was already on high alert, letting him know that what he was saying was  _ weird _ . Immediately, he backtracked. “I’m sorry, you probably hear that kind of thing all the time.”

“Oh! No, I actually haven’t.” The other boy reached to scratch the back of his neck. “Most people just say ‘Nathaniel, I like your new drawing!’ or something like that. That’s my name, by the way. Nathaniel.” 

“I’m Marc. Marc Anciel.” And in an act of courage, Marc pushed his hood back, exposing both his eyes and his messy black hair. Nathaniel blinked, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t understand the symbolic implications of Marc’s action, and he didn’t need to; the fact that Marc knew was good enough. He loved symbolism and tried to incorporate it in a lot of what he did, which he tended to chalk up to the writer in him. 

Rather than keep the awkward tension, Marc bent down and continued picking up the various papers and pencils. After another minute or so, he and Nathaniel seemed to have collected them all, except for the broken pencil of course. As a last-ditch effort to stay and keep talking with Nathaniel, he scanned the floor, looking for anything that they’d missed. Then he noticed a pen that had rolled a bit from the rest of the mess. 

The pen in question was grey, with an orange cap and purple chevron towards the tip. It also seemed to suit Nathaniel for some reason. Marc found it strange, as the pen hadn’t seemed to be there minutes ago, but that didn’t matter. “Is this yours?” he asked, holding the pen aloft. 

Nathaniel examined the pen. “Nope, not mine. But if you don’t want it, I’ll keep it. I could always use another pen for lineart, even if this one isn’t a fineliner. Those things dry up so quickly.”

“All yours. I don’t want it, I have my own.”

“Oh, do you do art too?”

“Not really, no.” Marc’s face flushed again, and he did his best to cover his cheeks with his hair. “I, uh, do some writing. But it’s not very good, honestly. Nothing as good as your drawings.” His thoughts raced.  _ Wow, Anciel. Digging yourself into a deeper hole, huh? _

“Writing is art.” Nathaniel said determinedly, as if saying it would make it a true law of existence throughout the world. “Self-expression, you know? Or something like that, I’m not very good with words. Believe me, anything you write is definitely way better than anything I could write.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Marc protested, but Nathaniel only shook his head.

“No, I’m an awful writer. That’s why the comic bubbles are empty; writing is just a skill I don’t have.” 

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but the bell rang then, signifying that class would start in a few minutes. Marc jumped, both at the sound and at the fact that he’d spent the whole time before class actually talking to someone without freaking out or going into panic mode. 

“I should go.” Nathaniel said, though a tinge of regret could be heard in his tone. Or maybe Marc was just hoping that there was regret. He honestly couldn’t tell. “Hey Marc, what class do you have? I have Mrs. Bustier again.”

At that name, Marc’s brain went into hyperdrive. She was his teacher too! He’d get to see Nathaniel again! “I think we’re in the same class. I, uh, don’t think I know anyone in that class, though. Which is kind of my fault, I guess, since I keep to myself most of the time.”

“Well, now you know me.” Nathaniel got to his feet. A small smile formed on his lips, and without thinking, Marc offered an equally small smile back. At that, Nathaniel grinned and held out his hand for the second time that day, which Marc took once again. “Let’s go, though, or we’ll be late.”

Trailing behind Nathaniel, Marc made his way to the new class. He just hoped that he didn’t look like too much of a loser. His head was still exposed, which made him massively uncomfortable, but he tried not to think about it. Wasn’t the best way to beat anxiety to face it head-on? Well, he was certainly doing that, between making a fool of himself in front of a stranger and revealing his darkest secret, his writing. Not that he felt like Nathaniel would make a big deal out of any of it. Nathaniel seemed different than others; he didn’t ignore Marc, he  _ listened _ . Or maybe he pretended to, just to be polite. 

Marc sincerely hoped it was the former.

Once they’d arrived at class, everyone seemed to already know where to sit. Marc didn’t know most of them, but he did recognize a couple faces. Chloé Bourgeois, for example, sat at the front with her ever-present “friend”, Sabrina Raincomprix. And Marc vaguely knew Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who was sitting with a girl that he’d never met before. He waved shyly at Marinette, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

“Marc!” called a voice, and Marc looked up to see Nathaniel in the back row, waving him over. Marc’s lungs suddenly felt a lot heavier. Nathaniel  _ wanted _ Marc to sit by him in class? This didn’t feel real. A hallucination, maybe. Marc actually speaking to someone else? Them apparently  _ enjoying _ Marc’s company?

Silently, Marc made his way to the back, narrowly avoiding tripping on a backpack that had been haphazardly left on the stairs. Sure enough, the seat next to Nathaniel was completely empty. “You—you want me to . . .”

Nathaniel nodded. “Quick, before someone decides they want to sit in the back so Mrs. Bustier can’t see what they’re doing. That’s why I sit back here, anyway.”

Marc set his bag on the ground, then took out a couple schoolbooks and a pencil. In a moment of bravery, he took out his notebook and scribbled a few lines that had been swirling through his head. Nathaniel wouldn’t look, right? As an artist himself, he understood artistic privacy? And sure enough, Nathaniel cast his eyes over, but didn’t seem to read anything Marc had written. Rather, he just turned back to his own sketchbook and kept drawing.

Marc exhaled, the tension in his shoulders disappearing slightly. 

Maybe this year wouldn’t be as bad as he’d thought it’d be.


	2. Meetings, Continued

When the school day was over, Marc didn’t plan to wait around to talk with Nathaniel. He’d already made enough of a fool of himself, and he wanted to get home and write some more. It wasn’t a bad day or anything; he liked Mrs. Bustier and some of the students in the class seemed nice, but it was all still pretty exhausting. So at the end of the school day, he claimed he had to go to his locker, then he hid under the stairs for a little bit with his hood up. And sure enough, Nathaniel walked right past him, chatting with a girl that Nathaniel had said he was friends with, a girl named Alix. 

Suddenly, Marc felt pretty stupid. Nathaniel had actual  _ friends _ , not some weird kid he ran into who broke one of his pencils. Why would Nathaniel want to talk with him, anyway? There was nothing special about Marc, nothing he himself could pinpoint at least.

Besides, he  _ actually _ needed to go to his locker to drop off his books.

But when Marc finally got to his locker, Nathaniel was waiting right there, standing by Alix at  _ her _ open locker. Alix was currently throwing pieces of paper that looked suspiciously like homework into a trash bag, cursing every once in a while. Marc attempted to creep over to his locker without either of them noticing.

“Oh, hey Marc!”

No such luck.

Marc turned slowly to face the two of them. Nathaniel was the one who’d spoken, and now he had that small smile again. Obviously he was just being friendly, but Marc couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering whenever he saw Nathaniel smile like that. 

It hit Marc like a brick. He had a crush on Nathaniel.

Saying it like that didn’t sound too bad, but just the thought of it sent Marc’s brain into hysterics. He wanted to rip his heart out and stomp on it until he couldn’t feel the stupid fluttering any longer. Why did he have to have a crush on the first person who’d been relatively nice to him? He knew he liked guys; he’d had a few celebrity crushes before, which were enough to figure that out. But Nathaniel wasn’t a celebrity. He was  _ right there _ , so close and yet so distant. Because Nathaniel didn’t know anything about Marc except that he was clumsy and liked to write. That’s it. No connection, no nothing.

“Are you okay?” Nathaniel asked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Marc blinked. Back to reality, again. “I—I’m good. You didn’t surprise me, I just, uh, remembered something that I forgot about before. But now I remember.” He nodded, as if that would punctuate his point. Then he turned back to his locker so that he wouldn’t have to look at Nathaniel anymore. If they weren’t talking, then Marc wouldn’t freak out, right?

He twisted his locker open, only to have something fall out. Something heavy, like a book. Marc picked it off the ground. It was a journal, a black, leather-bound journal with an elastic band keeping it closed and a bookmark peeking through the middle. He’d never seen that journal before, even though it looked sort of like ones he owned.

“What’s that?” 

Marc glanced up. Alix was the one that had asked, and apparently she’d noticed the journal in his hands. She had a hand on her hip and an expression on her face that seemed to say that she’d pester him about it until he explained. Nathaniel was looking too, though his attention was on Marc, not the journal. 

“He’s a writer.” Nathaniel explained, but Marc shook his head.

“This isn’t mine. I just found it in my locker.”

Alix peered over his shoulder. Even though Marc had always been a bit short, both Alix and Nathaniel were shorter than him, so she had to stand on her tiptoes a bit to see. “Is it empty?” 

As a response, Marc opened the cover. The first page was blank, as were the next couple pages. “I think so?”

“Then it’s yours now!” she grinned, popping her gum.

Marc considered this. It had been left in  _ his _ locker, which implied that whoever had owned it before didn’t want it any longer. And he could always use more notebooks for writing. He hated the thought of stealing, but did this even count as stealing? Probably not, given that it seemed to be left as either a gift or an unwanted object. “I guess it is.”

Nathaniel nodded his agreement. “Oh, by the way, Alix and I are going to get coffee before school tomorrow. Would you like to come with us? We might get pastries too, depending on how much time we have.”

“Yeah, you seem cool. Unlike  _ some _ people in the class.” Alix made a jerking motion with her thumb, motioning towards Chloé, who was currently yelling at Sabrina to do some menial task for her. “So, whaddya say?”

“Uh . . .” Marc hesitated, unsure. Eating around others was always a challenge for him, as it seemed like whenever he ate in public, he’d spill or make a mess or something. What if he did something really stupid in front of Nathaniel? He knew Nathaniel would never like him like  _ that _ , but . . . could they be friends? Still, Marc knew that the only way to be friends with someone was to spend time with them. Besides, it meant that he’d get to spend time with people outside of school, and his parents would love that. “Sure. That sounds fun.” 

“We’ll meet you at the coffee shop.” Nathaniel told him, scribbling a company name on a scrap piece of paper that had come from Alix’s locker. He then handed the paper to Marc, who folded it and stuck it in his bag. “Is eight o’clock okay?”

“Yes, that's great.” Marc agreed, a little too enthusiastically.

Alix crossed her arms, seemingly impressed. “Cool, we’ll see you then. Nath, you ready to head out? I wanna get my homework done so I can practice for the skating tournament.”

“Yeah, I should go too.” Marc insisted, throwing the journal into his bag. The paper that Nathaniel had given him crunched under the weight of the thick journal. “My mom should be here soon, and I’m, uh, tired. I’ll be there tomorrow, though!” 

And without letting either of the others have the last word, Marc slammed his locker shut, turned on his heel, and ran towards the exit where he knew his mother’s car would be waiting. It was, of course, and he got into the backseat. She asked an offhand question about his day, and he muttered something like “it was fine”, which seemed to satisfy her. 

This left Marc to rest his head against the window, soaking in the silence. 

He needed time to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a bit shorter, I'm still setting the background of everything up. It'll get longer and a bit more exciting soon!


	3. The Pen

As soon as Marc left, Alix whirled to look Nathaniel in the eye. “You have a crush.”

“On who?”

“On the new kid! Marc!” She rolled her eyes, tightening her crossed arms. “You’ve barely known him, and now you’re inviting him to all this stuff. Besides, you get that look on your face when you talk to him. You know, the look you used to get around Marinette when you liked her?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nathaniel insisted, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He refused to acknowledge how his face was growing red just at the mere topic of having a crush. Not that he could see his face, but he _knew_. “I invited him because I want him to feel welcome in our class. And because he seems nice.”

“Uh- _huh_. Now explain the stupid expression you get when you’re around him.”

Nathaniel paused. She’d brought up his “stupid expression” before, but he had no idea what it looked like. He also wasn’t fully sure why Marc made him feel more comfortable, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t a crush. Maybe. “I’m not used to being so _open_ , I guess. And I’m only comfortable around him because he’s a lot like me: good at something creative, and doesn't talk to others much . . . I mean, you know how awkward I usually get, Alix!”

“Yeah, and he seems about the same. I’ll be surprised if he actually shows up tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve gotta dip, this homework isn’t gonna do itself, and I really have to practice. See ya, Nath.”

“Yeah, see you later.” Nathaniel said, sighing. Why did this year have to be so complicated? He’d expected new people in their class; after all, what were the chances the class would stay the same year after year? But he felt oddly connected to Marc, like they were meant to meet each other. Like they completed each other. But why?

He snapped his fingers, a thought forming in his mind. That was it!

Marc was a _writer_. Nathaniel was an _artist_. 

Nathaniel could draw, not write. But if he wanted to get a comic book published, which is what he’d been thinking about for a while—not that he exactly knew what to write a comic about, though he had some ideas—he needed someone who could come up with the messy writing bits. Plot, dialogue, characterization, that sort of thing. Marc was always scribbling in his journal, and if he could write, then he could be the one who took care of the writing bits for the potential comic. They would make the perfect team.

He made a mental note to bring it up to Marc the next day. If Marc showed up at the coffee shop, of course. And if Marc was willing to share his writing.

On the walk home, Nathaniel’s excitement only grew, thinking of the possible ideas that they could write a comic about. Not to mention, possible ways that he could approach Marc about it. Saying “hey, let’s make a comic book together” didn’t seem quite right, obviously. And Nathaniel wanted to make sure that Marc wasn’t feeling like he was just being used for his writing or anything. Because he wasn’t.

As soon as Nathaniel made it into his house and then up to his room, he sat down on his swivel chair and took out a piece of paper to start listing some ideas of what they could make a comic about. Slice-of-life seemed a bit boring, so perhaps something a bit more adventurous? What would the genre be? 

Nathaniel had only made it halfway through the word “genre” when the pen he’d been using ran out of ink. Sighing, he searched around his desk for a different pen, only to come up with nothing. Just a lot of drawing pencils, markers, oil pastels, charcoal sticks, fineliners, colored pencils . . .

Yeah, maybe his father was right: he needed to clean up his art supplies more often.

In a flash he remembered the pen Marc had found for him this morning. Nathaniel had stuck the pen in his pocket and promptly forgotten about it. He fished for it in his jeans pocket, and when he was able to properly examine it, he had to admit that it was a pretty cool pen. The purple chevron with the orange cap matched his personal aesthetic, and it had a nice grip that he could hold with either hand..

Then he uncapped the pen.

And his entire world changed.

One moment, Nathaniel was in the process of taking notes. Then there was a sort of blinding light, along with an odd sensation not unlike a quick gust of wind. His clothing shifted slightly. His sleeves tightened. He could feel his hair lift off of his face. There was a slight pressure on his head, and something that felt a lot like gloves formed around his hands. 

And then, just as quickly as it started, everything stopped. 

Nathaniel blinked. His head swam, like he’d just gone on one of those spinning rides at an amusement park. Nothing in his room seemed out of place at first glance. Had he just had had some sort of hallucination? Maybe a sort of freak accident? Feeling slightly dazed, he got to his feet and made his way over to his floor-length mirror. 

And nearly passed out when his reflection didn’t look anything like him.

In fact, it was much easier to pick out the parts of his reflection that _did_ look like him. His red hair, for instance, though now it was tinted purple at the tips. His aquamarine eyes remained too, if a slightly darker shade. And he still held the pen in his left hand, now uncapped.

But everything else was different. What had been his usual attire had changed into a sort of white bodysuit with the same purple chevron on the sleeves, and the legs were a purple-to-orange gradient. Right by his chest was a circle with three smaller circles inside. Affixed to his right arm was what looked like a tablet. Most different, though, was his face. His skin had become a light shade of purple, with odd black markings around his eyes. His hair was now swept off to the side, and resting atop his head was a purple beret. 

Nathaniel reeled, holding onto the chair to steady himself. What had happened? All he’d done was uncap the pen, and now he’d become . . . _this_.

He almost couldn’t help but laugh at his own appearance. He looked sort of cool, maybe like a superhero, he supposed, but mostly he just looked like an artist who’d gone completely off the rails. And who knows, maybe he was still hallucinating, so that description might not have been that far off. 

Assuming this was real, the first thing he needed to do was figure out how to look normal again. How was he supposed to talk to his parents like this? What about school? He could already imagine the horror that his extended family would feel if they saw him like this. His poor mother would have to try and explain something that couldn’t fully be explained while his grandmother wept and his grandfather swore at his parents in Yiddish. 

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic. But still.

The pen was the cause of all of this, right? Uncapping the pen caused him to change, so maybe capping it could reverse the damage. He held the pen aloft, only to realize that it had transformed into a stylus. _To use on the tablet_ , he realized. 

Almost without thinking, Nathaniel moved the pen to the tablet and drew a rose, something he’d doodled on the corners of his school papers for years. Even as he drew, the rose appeared on the desk right next to him. He touched one of the thorns on the stem, then recoiled at the unexpected sharpness. Huh. If he hadn’t had the thick bodysuit covering his fingers, it probably would’ve drawn blood. 

He drew again, this time creating another pen, this one actually for writing. And once again, he marveled as the pen came into existence right in front of his eyes. Could he create _anything?_

No, he couldn’t think about that now, he had to focus on transforming back. 

All he had to do was recap the pen, right?

Except that the cap had now disappeared.

“No, no, no!” Nathaniel cried, searching the desk and the floor for the cap to the pen. He shoved aside the sketchbooks and stacks of completed watercolor paintings covering the floor, but the pen was nowhere in sight. He must’ve dropped it, right? It had to be lost in the clutter all over his room. Except it didn’t seem that way. The cap hadn’t fallen and rolled away, it was just . . . _gone._

Mme. Kurtzberg called from a few rooms over, “Are you okay, dear?” 

Nathaniel froze. “Yeah, I’m fine!” But his shaky tone was anything but convincing.

That’s when he noticed a little icon on the side of his tablet’s screen. A red X. 

He tapped the X with his stylus pen. And just like that, the blinding light and odd sensation happened again, leaving Nathaniel dazed and dizzy in his chair. Cautiously, he glanced down at his hands, then let out the breath he’d been holding. He was wearing his normal clothes. He looked normal again. Even the cap had reappeared on the pen, which didn’t seem to be a stylus any longer. He was safe, he was normal, everything was fine.

But now that he knew he could transform back . . .

He had to admit, it could be a pretty useful power.

With one swift movement, he uncapped the pen again. And this time, when the transformation occurred, he didn’t panic. He didn’t flinch when he saw his unusual reflection in the mirror. And when he drew another rose and it once again appeared right in front of him, his smile only grew wider.

This was _incredible_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that we all know what Evillustrator/Mightillustrator looks like, but Nathaniel doesn't in this story, so I felt it fitting to add description on that aspect. Probably will do the same thing with Reverser next chapter.
> 
> Anyway, things are starting to pick up a bit! It should get more exciting in the next few chapters, now that most of the background stuff is taken care of. And of course, the the love square can begin soon.


	4. The Journal

Marc lay down on his bed, clutching his bag towards his chest. Oh, how he wished he hadn’t panicked in front of Nathaniel and Alix! Way to make a good first impression. If it weren’t for that stupid crush, he might’ve actually gotten comfortable enough to spend time with them without freaking out. But he couldn’t help it. Nathaniel just had this air of sweet shyness, along with pretty eyes, cool hair, and an incredible talent in art. 

He sighed. The _one chance_ he got at having a friend, he absolutely ruined. And Nathaniel didn’t even know it; that was the worst part! 

Well, Marc could always write about it. He could make some sort of story about a boy around his own age with a crush on an unattainable cute guy. A little too close to home? Maybe. But in Marc’s story, they would end up together, so it would be at least partially a work of fiction. Of course real life would turn out pretty different.

He sat up and searched for a journal in his bag, only to come up with the black one he’d found in his locker. That worked, he figured.

Where had that journal come from, anyway? It’s not like anyone else knew the combination to his locker. And the slats in his locker were too small to slip such a thick journal through too. But no one had written in it, at least it seemed that way. The first couple pages were blank, but maybe there was something written further in it. 

He flipped it open to where the bookmark rested.

The change was instantaneous. A bright light formed in his vision to the point of blindness, which led to a strange feeling of weightlessness. Still, he could feel his sleeves and pants tighten and become more . . . block-like? He couldn’t exactly come up with a way to describe the changes that he could sense his outfit go through. The hood covering his hair seemed to become more stiff, while the book in his hands seemed to grow to the point where Marc dropped it, unable to hold onto it any longer. 

Then the light and sensation faded. Marc was left on his bed, leaning against the headboard in shock. Sweat dripped from his forehead, leaving his hair plastered to his face. He blinked a few times to get his bearings.

He reached up to remove the hood from his head, but recoiled when it was no longer made of loose fabric. It seemed to be thin, stiff fabric now, almost like paper. Shaking slightly, he glanced up into the mirror. 

His entire aesthetic reflected a chessboard. The right side of his face was now black and the left was white. On the white side, his eye had become black, along with what looked like black lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara. Was it makeup or just part of his face? He couldn’t tell. His hair remained black, though the style was slightly different. On the other side of his face, it was the same, except his eye, hair, and makeup were white. Everything else in his outfit had the same vibe: half black and half white. It was also all geometric, with everything seeming to be made of rectangles and lines, along with his hood forming a triangle and an insignia of a black and white circle just over his chest. And on top of it all, the cast-aside journal had now formed a giant, floating paper airplane, half black and half white of course.

He had to be losing his mind, right? 

Marc clutched his face in his hands, only to be shocked all over again when he looked up to see his reflection. This was really happening. He’d become . . . whatever the heck he was supposed to be now. 

_Okay, keep calm,_ he told himself. Rather than panic at whatever was going on, he focused his attention on his hands again. They were shaking, of course, but more importantly, something origami-like seemed to be spontaneously forming between his fingers. And when it fully formed, he could tell that it was a small black-and-white paper airplane. 

What was he supposed to do with _that?_

Something about the random paper airplane caused Marc to burst out in laughter. The whole situation was so ridiculous, and he wasn’t even sure what to do about any of it. All he did was open a journal, and now suddenly he’d become _this?_ And had the power of what, creating paper airplanes? Not to mention the giant floating one in the corner. Was he meant to ride on that thing? 

He walked over and cautiously stepped one foot onto the airplane. It didn’t wobble or anything, so he put his other foot on it, allowing it to hold his weight. Something about standing on it felt _right,_ like he’d been intended to do that this whole time. He was actually floating on a thin piece of paper!

In a quick decision without much thought put into it, Marc tossed aside the smaller paper airplane, threw open his window, and carefully guided the hovering airplane through the window frame. The wind brushed his hair back, but his hood stayed affixed in place. For a split second he was over his window ledge, then he was standing on a piece of paper hovering meters above the streets of Paris below. He couldn’t help but clutch his hands to his mouth, even at the risk of smearing his lipstick. This was incredible. He could _fly._

Then panic struck. What if someone noticed him?

But he didn’t look like Marc, did he? He looked really striking and eye-catching, which would usually be cause for anxiety to flourish, but now? Now he was in a sort of disguise, which would prevent anyone’s negative attention from being on him. Of course they’d _look_ at him, but he wasn’t Marc right now, was he? So that was a relief. 

But then he realized that his appearance might cause a public outcry due to just how odd it was, especially given that he was _flying on a paper airplane,_ so he probably still had to move. 

He steered the airplane around the side of his house, then higher until he was above some of the taller buildings. Hopefully, he was so high that no one would notice him, and if they did, they wouldn’t be able to pick out how strange he looked. Stopping only a few meters above the roofs, he glided over the buildings at his own pace, which was admittedly a bit slow to start. The wind whipped through his hair, throwing strands of both black and white into his eyes.

A scream pierced through the air. 

Marc glanced around wildly, attempting to keep his balance on the thin paper airplane. The scream was followed up by a couple more cries of alarm. Then Marc noticed it, the source of the commotion: a wild and frantic crowd at the entrance of the news building, far below. Wait, the news building? The KIDZ+ weather reporter competition had been that day, sure, but no way would it cause that much havoc, right?

Then, out of the crowd came a jet stream of what looked like glass, coating the street and the cars surrounding the building. 

Wait, no. Not glass. 

_Ice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, we all know what Reverser looks like, but Marc's really really confused, so adding some description seemed fitting. And Reverser's powers must be incredibly strange with no context.


	5. The First Fight

More screams emanated from the ground below. Now there was true hysteria, and not without reason, as a sharp gust of wind threw any civilians that were around backwards. Every window in the surrounding buildings shattered. 

And out of the crowd appeared the small figure of what seemed to be a girl in a dark dress. And was she _flying?_ To be fair, he was flying as well, as he reminded himself. Just an hour ago Marc would’ve dismissed the whole thing as a hallucination, but now . . . now he wasn’t sure what to believe. 

But wait, someone else was approaching her. Someone that also didn’t look normal, figuratively speaking. All that could be seen from so far away was the person’s bodysuit, red hair, and purple skin tone, but clearly these features were different enough from a typical civilian to catch Marc’s eye. And as he watched, the other person seemed to draw something on his arm, only for a giant box to fall from the sky and crash on top of the girl, trapping her. The box disappeared moments later when she shoved her way out, but still, it was something.

Who _were_ these people?

Were they in the same situation that Marc was in?

Could anyone possibly explain what was happening to him?

Against his better judgement, Marc swallowed and began a sharp descent.

When he got closer, he could tell that the other person was a guy, and he had a tablet fixed onto his arm, which he was currently scribbling something on. Marc couldn’t help but think of an artist on steroids who fell into a vat of chemicals or something similar. Still, he knew how to draw. Despite how the artist guy seemed to vaguely know what he was doing, he had no grip on the icy street and kept sliding backwards.

Now that he was nearing the ground, Marc could see just how much the area around them had been devastated, with cars running into each other and the entire landscape covered in a thick sheet of ice. Worse, there were people in some of the cars, many of whom could’ve been injured. Were they too late to save these people? What if someone had _died_ and Marc could’ve saved them had they arrived earlier?

“And what are you supposed to be?” the girl demanded of him, her lips quirking upwards in an imitation of a smile. She had a purple dress with lightning symbols on the sleeves, swirled purple and white hair, and strange black markings around her eyes, not unlike the ones the artist guy had. She also was floating slightly higher than Marc was, holding an umbrella in one hand. Or was it a parasol? 

“Could ask the same thing of you.” the artist quipped. He poised his pen to draw.

“I’m Stormy Weather, and unfortunately for you, there’s a cold front coming through.” She aimed her umbrella at him, sending a gust of wind in his direction. The artist grabbed onto a nearby light pole, but it was no use; the sharp wind flung him backwards onto the ice. His body hit the ground with a sickening thump.

He wasn’t moving.

Acting without thinking, Marc guided his hoverboard downwards towards the artist, even though the thought of slipping terrified him, as did the thought of the girl noticing him. She seemed transfixed on terrorizing the already-terrified crowds, though. Good thing too, or else Marc likely never would have made it to the ground. He stepped onto the ice, leaving the hoverboard floating nearby, and crouched down next to the artist. The other boy had stayed still this whole time.

“Hey.” Marc muttered, laying a gentle hand on the other's shoulder as to not startle him. After speaking, Marc had become hyper-aware of the fact that his voice had changed to become deeper and more distorted. Which suited him fine. He really _really_ wasn’t comfortable speaking to someone he didn’t know, but the artist seemed hurt, and Marc wasn’t about to leave him to die. “Are you okay? Please don’t be hurt too badly.”

The artist’s dark aquamarine eyes fluttered open. “Wha—"

Marc let out the breath he'd been holding. "Oh thank god, you're alright."

The artist's expression shifted: first in concern, then into a look that if Marc were to write about, he'd describe it as a "light smirk". "Who _are_ you?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the truth. 

It was like the artist had been brought back to life via Marc’s response. He quickly got to his knees, then to his feet. “Well, isn’t this just the day for superheroes!” he exclaimed, one hand on his hip. He wiped his messy red-purple hair away from his eyes, not that it was anywhere close to obscuring his vision. He wasn’t dressed much like Marc, but he still was strange-looking, with purple skin, a tablet attached to his arm, and a white and purple bodysuit with three circles in the center.

“Is that what we’re supposed to be? Superheroes?” Marc asked. His voice was a little shaky, mostly from the stress of knowing that Stormy Weather could find them at any point.

“Not sure, but I heard the commotion and stepped in.”

“And who’s _she?_ ”

As if as a response, Stormy Weather’s voice cried from behind them, “Two of you now? No matter, just more of an audience to prove that I’m the best weather girl! For example, expect heavy rainfall right about . . . _now!_ ”

A splash of rainwater doused the area around the two, leaving Marc absolutely drenched and freezing. His suit didn’t protect against water well, apparently. The artist seemed a bit better suited against the elements, but his hair now hung around his face, soaked, as was the beret on top of his head. Marc spat out the water that had gotten in his mouth. Streaks of water ran down his face, and he just _knew_ that if he really was wearing makeup, it was a complete mess.

“Huh. You think she lost the weather girl contest?” the artist asked, brushing his damp hair away from his eyes.

Marc shrugged. He didn't really feel like speaking at the moment.

A blast of wind pushed them both backwards once again. The artist cursed, though he kept his balance, then he started throwing projectiles towards Stormy Weather. She just sent them back with another gust of wind. He had to quickly draw a shield to block himself, but the speed and ferocity of the projectiles caused his shield to crack. But still, he hurled more projectiles at her. Marc shook his head disapprovingly. It was like that quote about the definition of insanity: trying something again and again and expecting different results.

This wasn’t going anywhere; they had to try something else.

Marc concentrated on his hands. Maybe he could catch her attention with one of the paper airplanes, and then what? Provoke her into a chase between her and her natural flying abilities and him and his hoverboard? It was worth a try, anyway. Still, his heart pounded harder than it ever had before. Stormy Weather was going to kill the artist guy, and then him, and there was nothing he could do about it. How come all he could do was make paper airplanes? He could do that without getting an extreme chessboard-like makeover! He was going to be completely useless, as usual: useless as Marc and useless as a hero.

Wait, Marc had a paper airplane in his hands now. He could at least try to distract her. It wouldn’t calm her down, which is what they probably needed to do, but at least it’d be _something._

With all the energy he still possessed, Marc hurled the paper airplane up at Stormy Weather. The airplane made contact, seemingly disappearing into her arm. Huh, that was a new one. And of course, it did absolutely nothing, not that she even noticed that she was hit in the first place.

There had to be something he was missing . . . right?

He snuck away from the fight, back against a car that had been flung backwards. The artist seemed to be able to defend himself for the time being, and Marc needed to figure out what to do. Realistically, his so-called “superpower” couldn’t just be throwing paper airplanes that did nothing, not when the artist was practically a god with the power to create literally anything he wanted. So did the paper airplanes _do_ something?

_Focus_ _Marc_ , he told himself.

The artist’s entire aesthetic was easy to match with his powers. He was dressed like an artist—that’s why Marc was referring to him as such—and anything he drew came to life. However, Marc looked more like a yin-yang in appearance, with his symbol resembling one of those New York moon cookies, none of which was exactly indicative of what he was supposed to be doing as a hero. Was he supposed to invoke some sort of balance? Or was it a play on an issue being “black and white”? 

Or maybe he just needed to stop overthinking it. 

His hands were now clutching another paper airplane. Clearly the airplanes were meant for something, he just had to figure out what it was and how to use it. Otherwise, he would definitely be a failure of a hero.

_Stop overthinking_ , he scolded himself _. Just act._

He stood up. At the moment, the artist was covering himself with a shield for dear life as she sent a stream of lightning at him. His shield had already started to crack, and a couple sparks of lightning hit his suit. Oh god, what if he wasn’t able to get out of this one?

Marc moved the arm that currently held the paper airplane, and once his arm was in a throwing position, he cleared his throat. He closed his eyes, though he could hardly bear being unable to see in the current situation. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed, letting the thoughts wandering around his mind fade to a blank slate. Calm, serene. He was completely at the mercy of whoever was near. 

Then, on a previously-unnoticed intuition, he spoke a word that hardly felt like it came from his mouth:

_“Reversion!”_

And he hurled the paper airplane.

That was it! It felt just like when he’d stepped onto the hoverboard for the first time; like it was just _right_ that he had done that. It must’ve been what he’d been missing from before, he reasoned.

He opened his eyes just in time to see the paper airplane make contact, this time disappearing into her leg. He braced himself. What was she going to do? Had his impulse been wrong? Would the paper airplane do nothing and she’d track him down and kill him?

But she didn’t.

Instead, the look on her face smoothed over, going from angry to more . . . solemn? She still turned to him, but not with the same look in her eyes that she’d had before. She’d calmed down, relatively speaking. 

Without saying another word, she let herself lower to the ground, still staring at Marc. He shuddered at her icy gaze, which is what it appeared to be now that her anger had seemingly disappeared. Her eyes narrowed. She took a deep breath.

Then she walked between two buildings and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stormy Weather isn't going to be a reoccurring villain or anything; I like Aurore too much for that. Also, just to clarify, akumas don't exist in this universe, so she's not akumatized.
> 
> Also part 2 of "Reverser's powers are super confusing if he doesn't know what he's doing".


	6. The End Of The Battle and The Beginning Of A Team

Marc and the artist glanced at each other, but due to both having been soaked in water and exhausted, not to mention bearing powers that they didn’t seem to understand, neither exactly felt up to the challenge of following Stormy Weather. In all honesty, the pressure that kept rising in Marc’s mind was nearing the point of an anxiety attack, and he just wanted to go home, take a shower, and lie down, which he couldn’t do yet as he was currently the subject of the artist’s scrutinous gaze.

“What did you do?” the artist asked, shock written all over his face.

“I’m not sure! She was upset, I somehow created a paper airplane in my hands, and when it hit her, she stopped being upset, I guess? Or she at least stopped wanting to fight us?” Words poured out of Marc’s mouth faster than he could stop them. “I don’t know where that word came from. _Reversion?_ I don’t think I’ve ever said that before in my life. I’m not even fully sure what it means!”

“So what, do you fulfill wishes with those paper airplanes or something?”

“I don’t think so. It’s like . . . like I changed her behavior or something. Though I don’t know. Are we actually supposed to be superheroes?” Marc asked the artist, his question still unanswered from before. Not that he expected the other, obviously unexperienced person to really know.

“I don’t know, but I hope so! I’ve always wanted to be a superhero. Wait, are we in the same situation? Like, you found a pen and pulled the cap off, which caused you to transform—”

“Not a pen, but yeah. Close enough.” For some reason, Marc found himself more bold in this form. Maybe due to the fact that the other person wouldn’t know who he was? That if there was something weird or bad that he did, Marc wouldn’t be the one recognized for it? Whatever it was, he could feel his heartbeat calming down.

“Well, if she comes back, or, you know, if there’s another villain of some kind, will you . . . ?” He didn’t finish, but the obvious question hung in the air. 

“If she comes back . . . yeah, I guess I’ll be there.” And instantaneously, he regretted his words. Was he really willing to do all of this again? They both could’ve died! Still, the idea of being someone else, even under the pressure of being a hero, was certainly alluring. And who knew, he might’ve saved a couple people’s lives by throwing that paper airplane.

“Good, and we should probably use fake names if we do meet again.”

“Pseudonyms, yeah.” Marc agreed. Not that he was exactly keen on this whole superhero thing. It sounded like incredibly heavy amounts of pressure, and since simply walking across the school courtyard gave him anxiety, no way would he be able to handle saving others. Besides, it’s not like Paris had a ton of villains to defeat. But the artist intrigued him in ways he didn’t understand. And if being able to fly around on a hoverboard under the guise of being someone else helped with his overwhelming anxiety, then he was okay with it. Even if he looked slightly weird. In fact, giving a name to his new persona would probably help even more since it meant he wouldn’t be Marc Anciel for a bit.

“Well, I was already thinking about mine, so I’ll have the name Mightillustrator. I’m not usually good with words, but I do like wordplay, so I got pretty lucky with that idea.” He grinned. 

“Okay, fine. And I’ll be . . . I don’t know, something change-related? Since I changed her behavior?”

“You didn’t just change her behavior, you . . .” He motioned with his hands, obviously searching for the right words. 

Marc thought back to the word that had come so naturally to him. “ _Reversed_ it?”

Mightillustrator snapped his fingers. “Yes! That’s it. You _reversed_ her behavior.”

“Alright then. Reverser, that’s who I’ll be. You can call me Reverser.” Sure, it didn’t have much excitement to it, but that didn’t matter to Marc. He just needed a name that wasn’t really his own. And the name certainly fit his aesthetic, with the whole back-and-forth black and white thing.

“That’s nice, I like it.” he nodded and stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Reverser.”

Against his better judgement, Marc laughed, shaking the other’s hand. “Nice to meet you too, Mightillustrator.” 

A new voice exclaimed, “Oh!”

Both boys turned to see a couple people filming on their phones, mostly teenagers. Instantaneously, Marc stiffened. Were they wanting to get an interview or something? He wasn’t a hero or anything! He had to remind himself via the mantra in his head that no one knew who he was so he had nothing to worry about, even though it only helped a little. His nerves relaxed, though, when he noticed Mightillustrator’s shoulders tense up as well. Could he be as nervous as Marc around people?

“Should we go?” Marc asked, motioning to the group.

Mightillustrator nodded. “Probably. Well, I’ll see you around, Reverser.”

Something struck Marc, then. He had no idea if he could transform back! And if he could, then how? It’s not like the journal came with a set of instructions! “Uh, hey, Mightillustrator? Are we able to turn back to our regular selves? Or are we stuck looking like this forever? I can’t go home looking like this!”

Instantly, he wished he could take his words back. Why did he have to mention home? Maybe it wasn’t a big deal, but that implied he lived nearby, right? Now his identity might be discovered! And everyone would know he wasn’t cool and confident, but just Marc Anciel, an anxious mess. Marc silently cursed himself until Mightillustrator responded.

“I can transform back, but the way I apparently do it is by pressing a button on my tablet. What about your hoverboard? Maybe if you, like, folded the two sides together? Or maybe if you took your hood off?”

“I mean, I’ll try both. But I’m going somewhere isolated.” He cast a furtive glance over to the group of people, still filming. 

Mightillustrator motioned for Marc to step closer to him. When he did, Mightillustrator practically whispered in his ear, “I think there’s an alley down the street. I’ll wait to make sure you can transform and that no one follows you or anything.”

Right. He was being quiet so that the people with cameras didn’t catch on.

That was . . . nice.

Marc only nodded, then stepped back onto his hoverboard and glided down the street until he saw the alley in question. He had to admit, he was getting a little better at balancing on the hoverboard. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he stepped back onto the concrete, grabbed the two sides of the paper airplane, and attempted to fold it together, feeling slightly stupid as he did so. Just before the two sides touched, the blinding light came back, bringing with it that sense of feeling weightless and dizzy. And just as quickly as it started, it all stopped.

Marc released the breath he’d been holding. 

He was normal again, or at least he thought, judging by the fact that his white and black attire had now become his red hoodie once again. Where the hoverboard had been a moment ago, the journal now sat on the ground, looking entirely inconspicuous. His hair still felt damp, with his bangs plastered to his forehead, but other than that he seemed to be just regular Marc again.

Mightillustrator called out from the other side of the building, “Did something work?” 

“Mmhm!” Marc exclaimed, attempting to keep his now-normal voice hidden. If Mightillustrator heard him and recognized the voice from somewhere, he might be exposed as Marc, which would immediately end his opportunity to be Reverser anonymously.

“Alright, I’m heading out now. Hopefully I’ll see you later, Reverser!”

“Mmhm!” He worried he was starting to sound rude, but, as he reminded himself, he didn’t need to. Reverser was the one responding, not Marc. No one would judge Marc if Reverser was the one talking. And, if the fading footsteps were anything to go by, Mightillustrator had taken his leave.

Wait. _Hopefully_ Mightillustrator would see him again? Sure, it was nice to not look like himself, but everything would be a lot better if there was no need for the two of them to fight Stormy Weather again, or any other villain for that matter. 

But that wasn’t important at the moment. Marc could go home now and lie down like he’d wanted, which was now becoming an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and distress. His eyelids were heavy after all that had happened throughout the day, and honestly, he didn’t have the energy to deal with these new revelations.

So, he picked up the newly-acquired journal, left out of the other side of the alley, and began the long walk home, already thinking up excuses for why he wasn’t at home and how he’d left the house without heading out through the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, no one saw either of them transform back. The only thing the people caught on video is their handshake and their hero names.  
> Anyway, that's the end of the first fight! Now things can (hopefully) really pick up in excitement.


	7. Early Morning Coffee

The next day, Nathaniel nearly missed his alarm, he’d been so exhausted from the fight with Stormy Weather the day before, especially the part where he got thrown onto the ice. He was used to doing approximately three things: sitting, drawing, and taking short walks for inspiration. Definitely not strenuous fights against a comic-book-like villain with powers over all the elements. So, instead of sitting up immediately, he pressed snooze and attempted to fall asleep again, even for just five more minutes. Alix could wait, she was always early anyway.

His phone rang. Sleepily, he reached for it and checked who it was, only to roll his eyes when he saw that it was Alix. Speak of the devil.

As soon as he answered, she said, “Hey Nath, lemme cut to the chase: I can’t meet for coffee today. Jalil asked for my help with something before school and my dad’s forcing me to do it.” Her tone implied she’d rather be doing literally anything else. “But still go, Marc will probably be waiting if you’re as late as you always are.”

Marc! He’d nearly forgotten.

“Uh, yeah. That’s too bad. But I’ll meet him there.” 

“You’d better. Imagine his disappointment if you're a no-show.”

“I thought you said _he’d_ be a no-show?”

“I did say that, didn’t I? Well then, if he doesn’t show up either, you’re both hopeless. See you at school.” And with that, she hung up the phone. Which left Nathaniel panicking over how much _time_ he had, what he was going to _wear_ , if Marc even _liked_ coffee . . . ? 

_Calm down_ , he told himself.

Of course he hadn’t asked what Marc liked, he’d barely had a chance to speak to him. And Marc, while really nice, seemed pretty flustered any time they had a conversation, almost to the point where Nathaniel questioned if Marc actually wanted the two of them to spend time together or if he was just being polite. Thinking back, it’d taken Nathaniel forever to work up the courage to speak to almost anyone in their school, so he understood. He just hoped that Marc would be okay with having his writing read if he was going to be the author of their comic. If they were going to make a comic at all. Geez, Nathaniel was way ahead of himself. One little stint as a superhero-like figure, and he was already getting carried away with ambition.

In the end, he’d just worn his normal t-shirt, jeans, and blazer. After tossing his pencil case, notebook, and sketchbook into his bag, he was ready to meet Marc at the tiny corner coffee shop. On the way out, he stopped in the doorway. Should he bring the pen? It was probably a stupid idea, especially if the pen got uncapped by accident, but still . . . he couldn’t bear to leave it behind. So against his better judgement, he pocketed it.

It wasn’t too long of a walk from Nathaniel’s house thankfully, since he was still aching from the day before. It had been a miracle that he hadn’t broken anything, the way that he’d landed on his back. Maybe his suit had protected him? And it was definitely a good thing that Reverser had gotten his attention, or else Stormy Weather might’ve killed him while he was nearly unconscious. Not that he remembered much. Just opening his eyes to see Reverser leaning over him, expression filled with panic, asking if he was okay. The other’s uncanny appearance had been momentarily startling, sure, but that was quickly replaced by the sweet person underneath who wanted to make sure Nathaniel was okay. That coupled with the determined look in his eye, the way he’d smiled when seeing that Nathaniel wasn’t dead, the promise that he’d return if the need would arise . . .

Nathaniel’s heart skipped a beat. And immediately he bit his lip, determined to bury that train of thought as deep as possible. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but he knew the way he was thinking about Reverser wasn’t just the way you’d think about a possible friend. 

Once he’d arrived at the coffee shop, he scanned the brightly lit interior for Marc. It took a moment, but he finally noticed the red-hooded figure in the back of the shop, not unlike where Nathaniel usually sat. Marc hadn’t ordered yet, so instead, he was writing in that journal he always had. Apparently, the part he was writing was getting interesting, if Marc’s frantic scribbling and ink-smeared hand were anything to go by.

“Marc.” Nathaniel greeted him.

Apparently Marc had been rather zoned out, so when Nathaniel spoke, he jumped and slammed his journal shut, eyes widened. After seeing who it was that startled him, he visibly relaxed. “Oh! Hi Nathaniel. Sorry, I’m really tired from yesterday.”

“No problem; I’m exhausted too. That’s why coffee’s a good idea. Ready to order?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” 

As they waited in line to get their drinks, Nathaniel knew he had to make some sort of conversation, and it couldn’t be about the comic yet. He didn’t want to make Marc feel like he was being used or anything. So instead, Nathaniel took a deep breath and asked, “Did you hear about that fight at the news building yesterday? With the people with powers and everything?”

He’d only asked because he’d seen the news broadcast from the night before, speculating on it all and including footage that he had to assume came from the people filming on their phones. The news knew their names to be Mightillustrator and Reverser, after all, and the only time they’d said them was in front of those people. And sure, it felt really cool to be in the news, even if it was just unflattering and blurry shots of him as Mightillustrator, soaked in rainwater and half-exhausted. But in reality, he wanted to gauge what the public reception had been to what happened. If Marc had heard about it second-hand, then the media would’ve already twisted it to be a positive or negative thing, which would answer the question of if it was safe to go out as Mightillustrator again.

“Oh yeah, I saw it in the news.” Marc said, pulling the hood back slightly. His dark hair somehow stayed in place instead of frizzing, and the sunlight from outside added a bit of shine to his emerald green eyes. “The weather girl and the two other . . . guys?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure both were guys.” Nathaniel responded with such confidence that he almost worried that Marc would catch on to his being there. Marc, who’d not actually been at the scene of the fight, probably wouldn’t know much about either of them. Especially Reverser, who appeared pretty androgynous, seemingly wore makeup, and had a strange, distorted voice. But Nathaniel had been able to guess with a fair amount of certainty that Reverser was male, only because he’d been there. “They had cool powers. The weather girl did too, just, you know, she was the villain.”

Marc kept his gaze fixed on the ground, but Nathaniel could sense a smile by the way his lips twitched ever so slightly. “You describe them like they’re in a comic book or something.”

A _comic book?_ Was this a good time to bring his idea of a collaboration up?

Eh. Probably not.

The barista spoke up, “Can I get your orders?”

“I’ll just get a large black coffee.” Nathaniel replied.

Marc glanced up. “A medium cappuccino, please.”

After they paid, the two of them waited to the side to get their orders. Nathaniel turned back to Marc and finally said to him, “Yeah, I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of superheroes. So it’s nice to actually see some inspiration for some of my more action-oriented drawings. And the new heroes seem pretty interesting.”

“I mean, we don’t _fully_ know if they’re heroes yet.” Marc protested. “I mean, they have heroic names, but they might just be random people with powers, or something like that. Who knows if we’ll even see them again?” He paled, then added, “Well, if the weather girl comes back, I hope we see them again, but . . . sorry, I’m not making sense.”

“I’m probably not making sense either, that’s why coffee is always nice.” Just as the words left his mouth, the two drinks were set down on the counter, and Nathaniel took the one with his name scrawled on it in messy handwriting. They’d spelled his name wrong, _again_ . Good thing he could focus on that. It was a better thought than mentally berating his guilt over sort-of hoping that Stormy Weather _would_ come back, because otherwise he wouldn’t have a chance to either be a hero or see Reverser again.

How had Nathaniel’s life gotten so complicated?

The two walked outside. Right away, the heat of the sun hit them harder than it had been earlier. Sensing the heat, Nathaniel took off his blazer, and the sunlight set off the highlights in Marc’s raven hair. 

“So.” Nathaniel spoke up, attempting to keep conversation. This coffee meeting had been pretty awkward so far, probably because both of _them_ were so awkward. If only Alix had been here! She would’ve known how to get both Nathaniel and Marc into a conversation, even if there would’ve been some light teasing. Okay, a lot of teasing. “Uh, done any writing lately?”

“. . . yeah, I have. But nothing exciting, I swear! In fact, it’s really boring, you wouldn’t want to read it.” He paused, eyes trained towards their reflections in the nearby glass store windows. “But if you do want to read my writing, I might have . . . something. Not that you have to! I mean, I’ve seen your artwork, so it’s only fair. If you want. I guess I shouldn’t have assumed you were asking—”

“Aw, of course I’d love to read some of your writing.”

“Oh.” Marc bit his lip, face slightly flushed. “Thanks.”

“Mmhm.”

“Read this one.”

When Nathaniel looked over again, Marc was holding out a journal with a rainbow cover, matching his t-shirt. The pages were stained in various shades of ink, almost matching the cover, and some of the pages were ripped and dog-eared. Clearly some work had been put into it.

“Oh! Thanks!” Nathaniel took it gratefully. He’d wanted to read something Marc wrote, just to get more of a sense of what the other boy was like. Marc just had this air of mystery and intrigue, partially due to the way he always seemed to draw into himself whenever he was around others. He seemed to slightly open up around Nathaniel, true, but then he would always abruptly shut down again. And while Nathaniel would never acknowledge it, he desperately hoped it wasn’t because he was being a weird or bad friend.

“Yeah, no problem. I, uh, hope you like it, Nathaniel.”

“Nath.”

Marc locked gazes with Nathaniel. “Huh?”

“Oh, sorry. I was just saying that you can call me Nath.” the artist explained. “My name can be a bit of a mouthful sometimes, and a lot of my friends call me that, so if you want . . .”

“Oh, okay.” Marc grinned sheepishly. “Thanks, _Nath_.”

“No problem, _Marc_. Yeah, you don’t have a nickname, do you?”

He shook his head. “Just Marc.”

“Well then, Just Marc, ready to head to school?” 

As soon as he spoke, Nathaniel regretted his flimsy attempt at a joke. He was anything but funny and charismatic, that was clear. But when Marc burst into laughter, covering his mouth with his hand that wasn’t currently holding a coffee, it was worth it. God, they even had the same dorky sense of humor, didn’t they?

“Yeah.” Marc agreed, the smile remaining on his lips. “Let’s get to class.”


	8. Impressions

As soon as he got to class, Marc opened his journal and kept writing his new story, scribbling to the point where the pen left a stain on his hand. Nathaniel didn’t question his odd behavior, thankfully. Not that Marc would’ve minded because if Nathaniel had asked, it would’ve meant that he was worried about him . . . though Marc didn’t really want him to worry, either. Why did this have to be so complicated? One day of having a crush and Marc was already tired of it.

He still could hardly believe that he’d given Nathaniel his old journal. Not that it was insanely personal or anything, as none of the stories were about _Marc_ specifically. Just projection-versions of himself whose stories all worked out in the end. Nathaniel didn’t know Marc well enough to catch onto the projection piece, did he? Marc sincerely hoped not. And now that he was safe in his seat, he’d be able to start his most recent story idea, which was one he could never show Nathaniel. The artist would surely pick up on a character based on himself . . .

His writing was interrupted by a loud cry of, “Did you hear the news?”

Alix, of course. She was Nathaniel’s close friend, so he perked up when she spoke, shoving his drawings into his satchel and making eye contact with her. Marc too closed his journal, not wanting to deal with anyone noticing his writing now that everyone had their head up. 

“The news about what?” Kim asked.

Alix rounded on him. “The new superheroes, of course! Didn’t you see?”

“Oh yeah, the superheroes.” Kim thought for a second. “I wonder where they came from? And what their powers are supposed to be? I’ve never seen those kinds of powers before in comic books and stuff.”

Next to Marc, Nathaniel stiffened. _He must’ve been taken by surprise at the comment about comic books,_ Marc reasoned, _since he's so interested in superheroes, as he said._

“Hey wait, I was one of the people who got footage!” one of the girls, who Marc had learned was named Alya, called out. “For journalism and everything, you know? They used some of my footage in the news broadcast.”

“Wait, really?” Marinette asked her friend. 

Alya grinned proudly. “Mmhm! I caught the two heroes shaking hands on camera. I wonder if they knew each other before yesterday? They seem to work decently well together, from what I could see anyway.”

Of course they didn’t know each other. Marc had been wracked with curiosity over who Mightillustrator could possibly be, but everyone that he came up with just seemed _wrong_ in his mind. None of the personalities matched up with Mightillustrator's. All he knew was that they'd both stumbled upon their powers, and now they were the "city's heroes". 

But he couldn’t say any of that to Alya for obvious reasons. So instead he kept quiet, glancing towards Nathaniel and Alix a few times in case either spoke up.

“I don’t know, they seemed a bit out of sync.” Juleka mumbled, drawing most of the class’s attention towards her. From what Marc knew of her, she didn’t talk unless she really felt the need to, but when she did, her observances were usually spot-on. And once again, she was right; they were absolutely out of sync during the fight. 

“I dunno, they might be. They’re still cool though!” Rose exclaimed.

“Yo Nath, wake up.” Alix whacked Nathaniel on the shoulder with her hat. “Did you get decaf today? Wait, don’t answer that, answer this: what do you think of the new heroes? You’re an artist, you must _love_ the drawing guy.”

Nathaniel stared down the doodles on his side of the desk. “I don’t know, they’re interesting.” he said, voice a lot quieter than it had been a half hour ago. “And actually I like the other one more. I think his name was Reverser?”

If Marc could’ve spontaneously died on the spot, he would’ve. Instead, he just pulled his hood over his head again and hoped to high heaven that his face wasn’t bright red. Nathaniel hadn’t said _that_ at the coffee shop! And good thing too, since Nathaniel’s attention had been solely on Marc, which would’ve forced him to come up with an excuse for why he was having a mini breakdown over that comment.

“Well, no one asked what I think, so I’ll grant the courtesy of answering myself.” Chloé spoke up, glaring at the rest of the room. “I think that having these new heroes is utterly _ridiculous_. Why do we need them? We have enough drama in Paris without adding two fashion disasters with powers!”

Marinette sighed, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “Chloé, they saved a lot of people. _Why_ do you feel the need to criticize what they were wearing?”

“I’m just _saying_. Their powers are decent, but their presentation has a lot to improve on, and presentation is key to social appearance. The drawing one’s hair looked like he cut and dyed it himself in the dark, and the paper plane one’s makeup looked like a five-year-old did it! Who even wears black or white lipstick anymore? And don’t even get me _started_ on their costumes. What is this, Halloween?”

“Chloé!” Rose exclaimed, her eyes narrowed slightly.

“What? I’m just telling it like it is!”

"But Juleka wears black lipstick sometimes—"

“Wait, Chloé. That means you saw my video.” Alya added. “Guess that means it’s a good video, right? Since you could pick out the tiny details of their outfits that you’re choosing to make fun of?”

“I saw _a_ _video_ , Césaire. Not _your video_.”

“But you had to see _my video_ if you were watching the news—”

“Girls!” Mrs. Bustier exclaimed, walking into the room. “There’s no reason to fight.”

Alya nodded grimly, setting her phone aside. “Sorry Mrs. Bustier. We were just talking about the new heroes from the news broadcast last night. Did you hear about it? They were at the news building . . .”

“I did, and I’m excited to see more of them. But we do have to start class for now.”

Throughout the class, Marc couldn’t focus. There was just so much to unpack from the public reception. Nathaniel’s reaction in the coffee shop had been one thing; but hearing that not only was most of his class thrilled about them as heroes, but so was his teacher? Talk about pressure. And the biggest one of all, Nathaniel enjoyed seeing _him_ more than Mightillustrator? Well, not him, Reverser. But his partner had been an artist like Nathaniel! Wouldn’t that have been more appealing than Marc’s own black-and-white aesthetic? Or was Marc just reading too far into it?

To be fair, Nathaniel could either like Reverser or Mightillustrator more, a 50/50 shot. But still . . . Nathaniel had watched the broadcast and decided that Reverser was his favorite? What did that mean? Did it even matter? It’s not like Marc was ever going to reveal his identity.

And his thoughts certainly weren’t stymied by the fact that Nathaniel was paging through the journal Marc had given him instead of paying attention to Mrs. Bustier, rather than the usual drawing he did during class. It was more than a little difficult for Marc not to ask “what do you think?” every few minutes. He couldn’t tell based off Nathaniel’s expression alone, which was pretty blank. That couldn’t have been a good sign, right?

Well, now he just felt like screaming into a pillow or something. 

This was way too complicated for his tastes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter this time! There might be a few short ones mixed with longer ones coming up, just by the nature of the upcoming scenes.


	9. Night Talks

Nathaniel couldn’t sleep.

His acute insomnia was usually pretty on-and-off, but tonight it struck harder than it had earlier, leaving him lying in bed until the moon was right overhead and his eyes still wouldn’t close. He’d tried every single one of his little “tricks”, from imagining a scene for a possible comic in his head to thinking “don’t fall asleep” on repeat. Nothing. And of course, it was the one week he didn’t have any sleeping meds. It was that weird in-between place where he was too tired to draw but too awake to sleep. So there was really nothing to do.

Except . . . 

In an instant, he had uncapped the pen and transformed into Mightillustrator again.

Not that there was a villain to fight this time. No, he just wanted to go outside and experience it from a perspective that wasn’t his own. When he was a hero, he could do anything, within reason of course. And being able to bring his drawings to life didn’t hurt. 

He climbed up the ladder onto the balcony. Then, he quickly scribbled a jetpack for himself and let his feet be lifted off the floor as the jetpack came into existence. He’d done this the first time that he’d transformed—that’s how he’d gotten to the news building so quickly after all—so he wasn’t as afraid this time. 

Once he’d landed on another rooftop, he started walking across, letting the cold night air brush through his hair softly. It was quiet, peaceful. And no one could see him or bother him. Sure, there were crowds on the streets still, but at this height, he was practically invisible. He’d also learned that he could jump fairly far without cause for worry, so he was able to travel a good distance just on rooftops alone.

But then he caught sight of a very specific-looking hoverboard little ways away.

As soon as Nathaniel found Reverser’s location, he approached the other hero and greeted him with a quiet “Hey.”

Reverser hardly reacted to the greeting, turning his head slowly in response. In the soft moonlight, his black and white eyes and lips appeared rather eerie, if not more striking. His hood shifted slightly in the light breeze, and the expression on his face was somewhere between indifferent and exhausted. With his geometric appearance and all shades of black and white, Nathaniel would’ve liked to draw him, but he knew that he could never do him justice with his art skill level. Not that Reverser would ever see it, of course.

“Hey Mightillustrator.” A pause, and then he stifled a laugh. “Sorry, I can’t take your name seriously.”

Nathaniel ignored the criticism and asked, “So, why are you out this late?”

“I could ask you that question too.”

“For me, it’s insomnia. You?”

“Same, actually.” 

Nathaniel’s heart jumped at this response. Not that he’d wish countless sleepless nights on anyone, but both having a night of insomnia seemed to connect them in a strange way, given that they’d both spontaneously decided to head outside at two in the morning in their hero forms. The world wasn’t exactly quiet, but it was calmer, and with the calm came a sense of openness and tranquility. Like they really knew each other, as opposed to before when the fight occurred.

“So, you have a physical transformation too?” Reverser spoke up. “I’m guessing you don’t actually look like that as a civilian.”

“No, I don’t usually look like this at all. And I’ll guess the same of you, that you’re just a regular person. I mean, maybe you’re not. But I am.” Why was he beginning to get so flustered? The feelings he got when speaking to Reverser were stupid, and he knew it. Now if only he could get rid of them . . .

“Yeah, I’m normal.” Reverser’s lips formed a small smile. “And a bit boring.” 

“No way you could be boring.”

“If you knew me, you’d agree.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

In an obvious change in topic, Reverser rolled his eyes and asked, “So you’re an art-themed hero. Do you like to draw or whatever when you’re a civilian?”

Nathaniel froze. If he’d said yes, that would severely limit the amount of people that he could be, as it was way more obvious that he was a guy than it was for Reverser, his red hair was a really prominent feature both in hero and civilian forms, and adding a proficiency in art to that would be like holding a neon sign that says _My civilian identity is Nathaniel Kurtzberg_. Yeah, that wasn’t about to happen.

Not that it’d be the end of the world if Reverser knew. In fact, it might make things a lot easier. But he worried that the reveal of his identity would not only be dangerous for whatever was going on with Stormy Weather and other possible villains, but would probably be a letdown as well. Having the faux-confident hero turn out to be the quiet art kid who sits in the back of the class to draw would be considered a huge downgrade, Nathaniel assumed.

“Uh, not really, I never was that good at art.” And to change the topic again, he added jokingly, “So you’re a paper-airplane-themed hero. Do you like to throw paper planes at people when _you’re_ a civilian?”

Reverser stifled another laugh. “Yeah, that’s my favorite hobby.”

“Wow, that’s perfect for you, then. We make such a great team.”

At his words, Reverser quieted and turned to Nathaniel, head cocked to the side. “ _Team?_ ”

Nathaniel stammered, “Ah—sorry, I assumed—if you don’t want to be a team, I understand. I shouldn’t have just said—” 

“No!” Reverser held up his hands as if that would stop his words right then and there. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just . . . not used to working with other people. On anything. I’m kind of awkward as a civilian, and I don’t tend to make many friends. And with this hero thing . . . I guess I just panicked. But if we’re supposed to be heroes, we’d definitely work better together. And I feel a lot more comfortable talking to you now than I have talking to almost anyone.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way. Like it’s easier to be the person I want to be.”

“Exactly!” 

The two of them shared a smile. 

“Well . . .” Reverser stood up and placed one foot on his hoverboard. “This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Nathaniel nodded. “We should. My insomnia comes and goes, but for now . . . I’m expecting a few sleepless nights. So I’ll likely be out again.” Was that explanation too much? He really wasn’t in the place to be getting into his mental health with a stranger, but with someone on his _team_ . . .

“Mine too. Hopefully we’ll be out at the same time.”

“I hope so.” Nathaniel agreed, silently thankful that they’d both been at ease enough to talk about themselves. It wasn’t much, but it was potential for a relationship that was beyond just being teammates.

Reverser fully stepped onto the hoverboard, then glanced back one last time. His eyes met Nathaniel’s, and within that moment of total eye contact, there was this silent understanding that passed between them. As if they deeply empathized with each other despite having just had their first proper conversation. 

And then the hoverboard took off and Reverser disappeared into the night.


	10. The Next Fight

The next day was pretty normal, surprisingly. As were the next few days. Marc was getting a lot more comfortable going to class and even talking to a few people outside of his comfort zone. He also hadn’t needed to become Reverser again, which would’ve been slightly disappointing had Marc not been over-analyzing every interaction that he’d had with Mightillustrator. Sure, it was easy to be open and comfortable in the night when it was just the two of them, but afterwards, Marc couldn’t help but blame himself for any possible weirdness. Was it odd to admit that he felt comfortable? It probably was; he was never good at social interaction. And if it was, did that mean that Mightillustrator hated him now? Losing one of the few people that he relatively was at ease with would be devastating. He knew realistically that it was just his social anxiety acting up again, but still. 

The weekend was a decent reprieve too, not that there was much to do. And when he got back to school on Monday, every single interaction was starting to become easier. Marc had done less hiding under the stairs and more talking with friends, even though it hurt when his mind went over his responses after the conversation had ended. Still, he knew that he was getting better. If he could get through his nervous train of thoughts, he could actually have a good school year, especially since everything was back to normal.

That all changed at the end of the second week when another run-in with a villain occurred.

“—which is why I don’t really take art commissions anymore.” Nathaniel explained, sketching with one hand and using the other to accentuate his point. “Too many people expect free art so it’s not worth my time.”

He and Marc were sitting on the stairs of the courtyard during their class’s free period. Marc, not used to being above the stairs instead of beneath, had become slightly uncomfortable being in plain sight, but he did like watching Nathaniel draw. The artist hadn’t finished reading Marc’s journal—or maybe he did and just didn’t want to talk about it—and Marc had been paining himself not to bring it up. Either way, Nathaniel was drawing some random sketches of people in their class, and Marc enjoyed trying to guess who each person was supposed to be before the sketch was finished. So far he’d properly guessed Marinette, Nino, Juleka, and Alix. 

“I can see why.” Marc replied, squinting to see the latest sketch. Was that supposed to be Adrien? No one else had slightly wavy hair like that, except Marc himself, but his hair was a lot messier than Adrien’s. Besides, why would Nathaniel want to draw _him?_

“Yeah, that was—wait. What the . . . ?” he trailed off, staring into the distance. 

Marc glanced up, shading his eyes. Then his jaw dropped in horror as what seemed like hundreds of pigeons descended into the courtyard. All seemed purposeful in their aiming, heading straight towards the students out in the courtyard. Several were even making a sound not unlike a scream. When they landed, they bit and nipped at the students, sending people shrieking and running around madly.

Yeah, this wasn’t normal. 

“C’mon!” Nathaniel had already grabbed his things. “We have to run.”

“But . . . I forgot my journal?”

_“Marc!”_

“It’ll just be a minute, okay?”

“No! You’ll be in danger.” 

Nathaniel grabbed onto Marc’s hand, and if the writer hadn’t been hurriedly searching for a place to hide and transform, he would’ve been on cloud nine. But since he was trying to get away, he reluctantly dropped Nathaniel’s hand and backed away. Nathaniel couldn’t know he was Reverser. No one could.

“I’ll be right back. Promise.”

Saying that last word hurt. He wouldn’t be back and he knew it.

As soon as he got away from Nathaniel, Marc wasted no time in ducking into a spare classroom that he knew didn’t have cameras or anything, then opening his journal and inciting the transformation. Seconds later, he reemerged as Reverser, thankful for the attention being off of him for the time being. No one noticed that he’d disappeared as Marc and reappeared as Reverser; everyone was a bit more preoccupied with the fact that the entire courtyard had become a source of chaos. 

Mightillustrator was nowhere to be seen yet. Most people in the courtyard had gotten away, ducking inside classrooms and barricading the doors. However, Marc did catch sight of Alix and Nathaniel cowering against the wall from the sudden onslaught of pigeons. His heart dropped in his chest. They hadn’t been able to get away.

He couldn’t reverse _pigeons_ . . . could he?

No. But he could get closer to his friends.

Jumping onto the hoverboard, Marc made a sharp ascent, flying out of range of the main onslaught of pigeons. He only hoped that his white and black attire wouldn’t be a target, but he assumed not due to the neutrality of both shades. And sure enough, none of the pigeons seemed to notice him the way that they did when he had his hoodie on. He swerved down and right, landing right beside where Nathaniel and Alix had been moments ago. Except now they were gone.

“You!” Marc turned. Alix was staring at him, pointing a shaking finger in his direction. Somehow she’d gotten away from the pigeons, and she was the one who’d spoken. “Yeah, you! Reverser or whatever. Tell me what’s going on _right now_.”

“I don’t know.” he replied as honestly as he could. “Some type of villain activity, maybe?”

“Okay, fine. Just go fix it and—wait, where’s Nath?”

At her words, Marc glanced around rapidly, searching for any sight of Nathaniel. And when he finally caught a glance of Nathaniel’s bright red hair, his heart clenched even more. The artist was being attacked by pigeons on all sides. And as he tried to get away by shoving them aside, they seemed to nip at his arms and hands. He was cornered, in the most unceremonious way possible, and it looked like he was panicking.

Marc took a deep breath.

He had to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so sorry for adding Mr. Pigeon to this . . . they just needed an easy villain to fight who could pass as a typical comic book villain. And I think I've typed pigeon here more times than I've ever typed it before.
> 
> Also this fight is going to last two chapters. It was originally one, but it got kind of long, so I split it into two and it's almost a little too short now. So expect the next one pretty soon!


	11. Next Fight, pt. 2

In one swift move, Marc directed his hoverboard towards Nathaniel. He picked up an abandoned bag of popcorn that a student had left, ripped it open, and tossed the bag, sending the kernels flying. The pigeons flocked to the food, leaving Nathaniel standing and appearing slightly shaking. But his expression shifted from fear to surprise, then to a sort of panicked joy when he caught sight of his savior.

“Are you okay?” Marc asked, somehow managing to keep his voice even.

Nathaniel nodded, taking a deep breath. “T-thanks. Oh! Did you see my friend Marc Anciel? He ran off to a classroom . . . I don’t know if he’s okay or not, but I’d hate for something to happen to him. He has a red hoodie and dark hair.”

“I saw him! He’s safe. Not with the class though.” Marc promised. Did that sound realistic? His thoughts balanced precariously between being thrilled that Nathaniel was worried about him and fear over the thought that Nathaniel might figure out who he was. 

“Oh, good! Um, I think the rest of my class is outside the building, but I don’t know if I can safely get there . . .”

“I can help.” Marc told him, ignoring the burning feeling in his cheeks. Could he even blush as Reverser, when his face was entirely black and white? “Uhh . . . here, step onto my hoverboard, and I can take you outside . . .”

Nathaniel nodded, then stepped cautiously onto the large paper airplane, one foot at a time. It wobbled, but held their weight combined. But a new problem surfaced. Marc was able to ride it since it was _his_ , but what about Nathaniel? Was he going to fall? Marc took a deep breath. There really was only one solution, not that he really wanted to go through with it. Or maybe he did? His emotions were on high alert at the moment, and he couldn’t piece them together. “Uh, are you okay if I just carry you instead? I don’t want you to fall.”

The response wasn’t at all what Marc expected. Nathaniel’s face turned bright red, almost matching his hair. “Yeah, that’s okay.” he mumbled, staring down at the ground.

Oh. So he was uncomfortable.

But there really wasn’t much else Marc could do other than pick up his friend ( _bridal-style_ , he winced) and ascend upwards on the hoverboard before the pigeons could retaliate, having finished their snack. Seconds later, they were above the school, heading outside, and Marc hoped to heaven that he wouldn’t lose control of his hoverboard or something and drop Nathaniel. That would make a pretty bad impression. Wasn’t spilling Nathaniel’s drawings everywhere enough?

Finally, they touched the ground, more or less, and Marc set Nathaniel down onto the sidewalk. The artist looked a little shaken and his face was still red, but he was okay. And that’s what Marc had really been worried about.

“T-thank you.” Nathaniel stammered, adjusting his bag.

“Uh, no problem!" His voice cracked on the last word, thankfully masked by the distortion. "You should meet up with your class now.”

As soon as Nathaniel left, a figure descended on what seemed to be a large group of pigeons. He wore a skintight suit that resembled a pigeon in coloring, past the point of ridiculousness. But this guy seemed to be the one that made the pigeons act as they did, so any sort of quip or remark died in Marc’s throat. 

“Have my little birdies given you trouble?” the man asked, eyes narrowed.

“Ha! You think we’re scared of a bunch of pigeons?” someone behind Marc demanded. Mightillustrator, _finally_. It’d taken him long enough to realize something was going on at the school, geez.

“You _will be_. One populated place at a time, and soon I’ll show all of Paris to respect my _friends_!” His smile widened, and that combined with his uncanny appearance caused a genuine sense of unease.

“What’s your bet?” Mightillustrator muttered to Marc. “Bitten by a radioactive pigeon?”

“Hmm, injected with pigeon DNA?”

“Ah, I like the way you think! C’mon, let’s take down this guy. I have stuff to do today.”

The fight didn’t last too long, but the pigeon guy got away in the end. Mightillustrator had attempted to trap as many pigeons as possible by drawing cage after cage as well as sending projectiles towards the guy. Marc also went after the guy to see if he could reverse him into being hating birds or something, but eventually he was overwhelmed by the waves of pigeons sent towards him in the air. Still, Mightillustrator had gotten a few good projectile hits in before the guy escaped without notice, so it seemed like he wouldn’t be back for a while in order to recuperate. At least, they hoped so. 

Damage control of the courtyard didn’t take long either. They got one of the teachers to call animal control to take care of the cages of pigeons, and Mightillustrator was able to erase most of the feathers that had piled up. Eventually, Mightillustrator was off to wherever he came from and Marc could duck into a closet and transform back. Admittedly, it was relieving to be able to change back to himself, despite the overwhelming pressure of knowing that the pigeon guy would likely try again soon. At least it wasn’t now.

When Marc was finally able to meet up with the rest of the class, Nathaniel was waiting, his eyes filled with panic. “I was worried about you!” he cried, rushing towards Marc and immediately embracing him in a hug. Marc only hoped that his pounding heart wasn’t as obvious as it seemed to be while they were _so close_. Still, Marc hugged him back, noting that due to their height difference, his hands were in Nathaniel’s hair, which was really soft and silky. 

“Sorry, I'm okay though.” Marc mumbled. 

His response seemed to shock both of them into awareness, causing them to pull apart swiftly. Behind Nathaniel, Alix rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but gave no other reaction. The rest of the class wasn’t paying attention to Marc’s sudden reappearance, instead talking amongst themselves about how weird the whole situation with the pigeons had been. And Marc didn’t blame them; if he’d not been one of the heroes in the situation, he would’ve done the same. Or at least written about it.

“—and they didn’t arrive fast enough.” Chloé said, while Sabrina nodded seriously, listening in rapt attention. “My hair was just professionally done yesterday, and having _disease-ridden_ pigeons flapping all over it is such a waste.”

Alix rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because you’re exceedingly poor and can’t afford to get it redone.” 

Nathaniel, who wasn’t listening to the complaint thread, had this intense look of concentration on his face that Marc couldn’t place, somewhere between focus and self-consciousness. He was staring at the ground and clutching a pencil tightly in his left hand. Also, his forearms were still vaguely red from the pigeons’ nipping, which looked a little painful.

“Are _you_ okay, Nath?” Marc asked. It really wasn’t fair that he hadn’t asked in the first place, anyway, and judging based on Nathaniel’s appearance, his friend seemed incredibly embarrassed. By needing to be carried to safety by Reverser? Maybe. A wave of guilt washed over Marc, which he tried to ignore. It really _was_ the only way . . .

Nathaniel glanced up. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I’m good, thanks Marc.”

At that moment, it was announced that everyone was to head back inside to finish off the school day. Many of the students groaned, but there wasn’t really much anyone could do about it, so Mrs. Bustier’s class started to make their way through the double doors of the school. 

Marc took a deep breath and clutched his journal closer to his chest. It was okay, he’d done it again. He’d managed to ward off a villain and no one knew it was him. So even if someone was recording, nobody would put the blame on him. Nobody would assume it was Marc who hadn’t fully caught the pigeon guy or who had saved the students in a less-than-graceful manner. Nobody would know a thing.

Especially not Nathaniel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to make a note that the villains in this universe just *have* powers, kind of like Nathaniel and Marc do. So Xavier Ramier genuinely just has some sort of animal telepathy and he's kind of unhinged. But since the villains aren't at all the focus of this story, it won't come up too much or be essential information; I just wanted to mention it in case anyone was curious. 
> 
> Anyway, the love square is starting to have their moments! The "Reverser/Nathaniel" interactions are pretty fun to write, since they're both just freaking out.


	12. An Attempt

The next Monday, all seemed normal again, like nothing had happened. Well, besides the fact that everyone was talking about the heroes actually being at the school. Even though Reverser and Mightillustrator had hardly done anything, the place was abuzz with discussions about their powers, their personalities, and scariest of all, who they were. Marc wasn’t sure if he had to lay low for a bit or not, but when he overheard someone theorize that _Marinette_ was Reverser, his worries decreased exponentially.

But that morning seemed more tiring than ever, for some reason. Marc couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to the discussion about the book that they were currently reading, and apparently, neither could Nathaniel, who was drawing pictures of something under his homework. Dark circles rimmed the artist’s eyes, and he kept leaning on his hand and nearly nodding off. 

In a similar fashion, Marc took out his journal and began to write. When his current story got boring, he opened to a clean page and started a confession of his feelings, which was unsurprisingly about his crush, as well as being one he never intended to give. Instead of being straightforward, he chose to write a poem. It was more than a little cringe-worthy, but he had to admit it felt good to write his feelings out, even in a more Shakespearean way. So when he gave up on the poem and started a chronicle of Reverser and Mightillustrator saving a group of students from danger, one of the students being Nathaniel, he ignored the burning feeling in his cheeks and let the words flow. Then he reread the poem and blushed even harder. 

He _really_ needed to do something about this whole crush thing. 

Wait.

Could he?

It felt unrealistic to even be able to say anything, but other people seemed to do it all the time. So maybe the note wasn’t for nothing after all . . .

As soon as the bell rang, signifying the end of the last class, Marc raced to his locker to put his books away. Then he headed to the only other person in class he felt somewhat comfortable speaking to: Marinette, who was currently at her own locker. He needed some advice, and fast. 

“Hey Marinette.” he spoke in a near-whisper. 

Despite his quiet tone and her focus being elsewhere, she immediately turned at the sound of his voice. She practically jumped, as if he’d scared her, but she still was able to greet him with a smile. “Oh, hey Marc! How’s it going?”

“I’m okay. I just had a quick question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not! What’s up?”

He fiddled with one of his gloves. Now or never. “Uh, okay. So I . . . I think I have a crush on someone. Someone who thinks of me as a friend and nothing else. And it’s really stupid, I know, but I can’t really pretend my feelings don’t exist. I wrote them a note—a poem—and everything . . . but I don’t know if I should give it.”

“Aww Marc, I understand.” She smiled sympathetically at him, pity dancing in her eyes. “I’m sort of in the same situation, to be honest. And it hurts, I know. Can I ask who it is that you like? Maybe I could shed some light on the situation.”

Admittedly, he really _really_ didn’t want to tell her who exactly it was. He already knew that she wouldn’t judge him for liking another _guy_ , it was just the particular person he liked that made him worried to hear her reaction. But she’d known Nathaniel longer than he had, and if she had any ideas or advice, he wanted to hear it. 

Marc mumbled under his breath, “ _Nathaniel_.”

And of course, Marinette heard perfectly well. Realization dawned on her face, and she nodded. “Ah, okay! In that case, I’m not sure he thinks of you as 'just a friend' . . .”

_“What?”_

She held up her hands in mock defense. “I’m not making promises! But well, he used to have a crush on me, and the way he used to act around me is kind of similar to the way he’s been acting around you. Especially when you first joined the class. You know, inviting you to things, sitting with you outside of school, that kind of thing.”

Marc blinked, attempting to piece together what she was saying. “So . . . you’re saying that he liked you?” Panic rose in his throat like bile at the next oncoming thought. “And now you think that he likes _me?_ But . . . why?”

“It’s up to you, but you could tell him if you want? I’m sure he wouldn’t respond negatively.” She put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “I know I’m not the best person to give this sort of advice, but I think you should go for it.”

He nodded profusely. “I-I'll try!”

“You will? That’s great!” She grinned. “If it works for you, maybe I should tell—”

“Adrien?”

She blanched, eyes widening. “Uh . . . how did you know?”

Everyone except Adrien himself seemed to know that Marinette had a thing for him. It was definitely talked about; Marc had heard Alix and Nathaniel discussing it with some of their classmates before. But no one wanted to tell her, and Marc wasn’t about to be the one to break that. Instead, he just shrugged. “Okay, I’m going to go give him that note now. I’ll text him first.” 

He opened his phone and texted Nathaniel’s number, telling the artist that he had to tell him something and wait up for him. No response, which wasn’t exactly surprising. Nathaniel was notorious for not answering his texts quickly.

“I guess I’ll just go see if he hasn’t left yet?” Marc finally said, more as a question than a resolution. And with that, he started making his way down the hallway towards the courtyard and the front of the school.

“I believe in you!” she called after him.

He didn’t have time to respond though, as he was running as fast as his legs could carry him through the corridors. Several people stared, but for once in his life, Marc didn’t mind. He just wanted to find Nathaniel and give him the note before he lost all the adrenaline that talking with Marinette had given him. For what felt like the first time in ages, he actually felt like he could _do_ something.

Nathaniel wasn’t on the stairs, nor was he by the classroom. Marc hadn’t seen him by his own locker, so either he already left or—

There.

He was walking out the doors with Alix.

Marc rushed forward, clutching the note in his hands.

So close.

Did he really want to do this?

Just a few more meters . . .

“So, you coming over? I need someone to time me for that skating competition, and Kim says it’s not worth his time.” Alix announced, crossing her arms and tilting her head to glance up at Nathaniel. 

“And what makes you think it’s worth my time?” he joked.

Neither had noticed Marc yet. His hands shook, clenching the note.

“Because I know you’re just gonna go home and draw whichever person’s your crush now. Either that, or random comic panels without any words since you’re too chicken to ask if M—”

“ _Okay_ , I get it! You knew I was going to say yes, anyway.”

“That I did, Nath. Catch you later, just ring the doorbell and don’t let Jalil rope you into a conversation about the hidden messages in ancient Egyptian art. He’s getting really interested in that kinda stuff lately, and you’re the only artist he knows, so consider this a warning.”

“Will do.”

She laughed, then dashed down the stairs, and Nathaniel followed right after, albeit a lot slower. She walked through the giant double doors, then let them slam behind her. Nathaniel didn’t leave, though. He stood by the door on his phone, scrolling through the messages he’d missed. 

Marc’s stomach turned. That meant Nathaniel was going to see the text.

No . . .

Not like this.

Not now.

Marc couldn’t do it. 

He couldn’t endanger his friendship with Nathaniel that way.

It wasn't worth the risk.

Why did he ever think that he could admit it? Why did he trust himself to admit his true feelings to someone who would likely not replicate them? Why did he want to take the risk of losing one of his only good friends over a stupid crush? Not that he thought Nathaniel would be homophobic or anything at all, but Marc assumed it would be immensely awkward to be friends with someone you knew had a crush on you, and since he and Nathaniel were very similar, he guessed that Nathaniel would think the same.

Gathering his energy to leave, Marc turned around and shoved the note into his back pocket. 

This whole thing was useless. Nathaniel never really made any indication that he wasn’t straight in the first place, especially since he’d had a crush on Marinette before. Why would he even consider Marc anything besides a friend anyway? They’d just met! Marc vividly remembered what Nathaniel had called him when asking Marc-as-Reverser where he was: “my _friend_ Marc Anciel”. 

He should’ve known then. 

Besides, he was just glad that Nathaniel was his friend at all. He’d much rather his friend stay just his friend and actually want to spend time with Marc, commonly known in his old class as “that weird kid”, and that was one of the more tame comments. Besides, that would’ve been a terribly awkward confession too, which probably would've eventually led to the end of their friendship. No, he was fine just staying totally platonic. He just hoped that his feelings would fade away to nothingness until he was able to communicate properly to Nathaniel and not just stammer and blush like a dork.

A rush of relief ran through his body as he decided he was glad that he hadn't actually confessed. That would've been terrible.

“Oh, Marc!” Nathaniel called out, halting both Marc and the writer’s train of thought. “Hey, sorry Alix and I didn’t wait for you! I just got your text. What did you want to tell me?”

Marc turned back slowly to face his friend. He made extra sure to keep his face emotionless, so that Nathaniel wouldn’t know that anything had happened. And by the looks of it, he didn’t, which was a relief. Nathaniel, on the other hand, seemed slightly concerned, as if he’d been planning for Marc to tell him he was switching schools or something. “Uh, right! I just . . . wanted to say that I saw a few of your drawings on the school website, and, uh, congratulations! You deserve it.”

“Thanks Marc! That’s nice of you to say. Oh, I forgot to ask earlier, but a couple people from our class are going to get ice cream together this evening. Did you want to come?” He shrugged, as if he didn’t care either way. 

_Of course he cared_ , Marc reasoned, _If_ _they were friends, he did._

But were they really friends? Or did Nathaniel just pity him for having no one else? Marc certainly didn’t want to be a charity case.

“No, I’m busy today. Thanks anyway.” That wasn’t actually a lie; he had homework to catch up on after the weekend and not paying any attention in class. But he also didn’t want to embarrass himself any further, and he wasn’t good with social situations anyway.

“Oh. Alright.”

“Yeah.”

Before Nathaniel could say anything else, Marc faced the hallway again and ran, dashing down the corridor and out the back way of the school. Mme. Anciel would understand if he was late, wouldn’t she? Once outside, he took a deep breath and sank to the ground again, pulling his hood over his head. As if to match his current mood, it started to sprinkle, leaving tiny raindrops on his note and smearing the ink. 

Thoughts raced through his head. _This was such a stupid idea, Nathaniel never liked him like that anyway, they were just going to stay friends, Marinette had made a mistake, there was no point to even asking, he had no chance with someone that amazing . . ._

And on and on went this train until there was only one striking thought, one thing he could focus on until he needed to get up and go home, the thought being that his anxiety was right, for once. There _was_ no point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright yeah this is where parts of the love square start getting a bit angsty...


	13. Night Talks Again

“Hey, Reverser.”

The black-and-white hero turned sharply at the sound of his name, even more visible this time by the light of the full moon. Once again, Nathaniel had insomnia and couldn’t bear to stay inside any longer, and to his delight, Reverser was out as well. Unlike the last time they’d met in the dark, Reverser’s expression was now somber, like someone had just told him that they hated him and he was trying not to react. At least, it seemed rather somber; it was hard to tell with his intense duo-chromatic eyes. That coupled with the fact that he refused to make eye contact caused Nathaniel’s worry to rise. 

“Hello to you as well.” Reverser pursed his lips, glancing away.

Nathaniel took a seat next to him. “Okay, something’s wrong. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“You can tell me. Remember, I have no idea who you are, so anything you say will stay between us. Really, I promise.”

Reverser bit his lip, seemingly in thought. Finally, after taking a deep breath that sent a shudder through his whole body, he nodded. “Okay. You’re right, there’s something wrong. And it hurts me to think about it right now, but I can’t avoid it.”

Panic shot through Nathaniel’s mind. “Wait, is everything okay at home? Are your parents—?”

“Oh no, it’s not about my family! Don’t worry about that.” He paused again, attempting to scrape at the white nail polish on his left hand. “It’s more of an issue about . . . love. No, not love. Just stupid feelings that didn’t work out.”

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. “Did someone cheat on you?”

“No, nothing like that. Really, it’s not a big deal. All that happened was that I liked one of my friends and thought I might’ve had a chance with them, but before I could tell them . . .” He shrugged. “I panicked. I didn’t want to ruin my relationship with them. And they haven’t noticed my feelings yet anyway, so . . .”

“Why would that ruin your relationship?”

“Oh, you know . . . if they decide that it’s too weird to have me around if I like them like that . . . besides, I wouldn’t want them to get angry that I’ve been feeling this way towards them for this long without saying anything.”

“Well, in that case, they wouldn’t deserve your friendship.”

Reverser glanced sharply at Nathaniel. _“What?”_

“I meant what I said. Sure, it might be kind of uncomfortable for some people to be friends with someone that likes them, but it can still work. And if you were to tell them and they’d end up disliking you over it, that’s not okay.” He struggled for words to make his point. “That’s . . . being a bad friend.”

“He is _not_ a bad friend!” Reverser cried indignantly, then froze. “Fine, he’s a guy.”

“Aw, don’t worry about that! Besides, I’m bi.” 

“Oh! Okay. Sorry, I didn’t assume you’d have a problem with it or anything, I’m just not really used to talking about being gay so casually.”

“I understand. But do know that you’re safe talking to me. My point still stands though, he’s probably a bad friend if you feel like he’d become upset and abandon you.”

“He’s _not_. And I don’t care, it’s not like I actually told him anyway. I mean, I was going to, but only because another friend who he used to have a crush on said that he was acting around me the way he acted around her.” Reverser sighed again, resting his head in his hand. “Yeah, ‘her’. With my luck, he’s probably straight anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” And he wished he could’ve done more. There was really nothing he could do to resolve the situation besides apologize for something that he couldn’t control. But if there was one thing he knew about, it was the person he liked not returning his feelings. 

“It’s fine. Not your fault.”

“Well . . . I’ll admit that I’ve been in a similar situation. I don’t know how to give advice about it, but at least you’re not the only one.”

“What happened?” Reverser hugged his knees to his chest, making total eye contact with his intense black and white eyes. Haunting and eerie in the pale moonlight. Completely different from the cool and collected demeanor he’d had before. 

Nathaniel shrugged. “I liked this girl I’m friends with, and it turned out that she liked another guy and just thought of me as a friend. So I got over her, and we’re still friends. And then I met this guy and I liked him too, but he’s kind of standoffish sometimes. We’re still friends too, and he’s one of my best friends now, but I worry that maybe he secretly doesn’t like me or something. That he’d rather be alone than spend time with me.” He pictured Marc and his heart ached slightly. The panic he’d felt the day before when Marc left and he couldn’t escape the pigeons to become Mightillustrator and save him had been overwhelming. But Marc let go of his hand and ran off into a classroom to hide . . . did that mean he didn’t want to be by Nathaniel, even in a time of crisis? Or was he just scared? Did he misinterpret the hand-holding as a possible romantic advance and panic? Nathaniel’s head pounded just to think of the possibilities. 

“Maybe that’s not his intention.” Reverser offered. “Maybe he’s just awkward like me?”

“You’re not awkward.”

“You’d be surprised how I act as a civilian. I have severe social anxiety, and every interaction with other people is hard for me. But when I’m Reverser, it’s freeing, like I can be more open and confident about myself. Which is why I opened up to you in the first place. And why I can keep opening up to you.”

Something about him saying that prompted Nathaniel to reach out and grab the other’s hand. Reverser blinked at the sudden contact, but instead of jerking his hand away, he tightened his grip. His geometric gloves and fingers felt strange in Nathaniel’s grip, but that didn’t deter him. Instead, he was reminded of the time that the other hero had carried him to safety, which brought a rush of emotions back. And he almost was able to kid himself into thinking that the other hero liked him back, that for once, his feelings were reciprocated. 

Almost.

But no, he knew he wasn’t the one Reverser had set his sights on. 

And he knew he wasn’t the one for Marc either.

And he knew he wouldn’t be anytime soon.

“Thanks.” Reverser mumbled, staring down at the streets far below. Then he cast a side glance towards Nathaniel, his lips forming something near a smile, but not quite. “I don’t know what I’m talking about anymore, sorry. And honestly, I should try to go get some sleep. I probably won’t be able to, but I can at least try.”

“Yeah, I should go too, so that I’m not too tired for school tomorrow.”

Reverser glanced his way, a suspicious side-eye glance. “School?”

“Yeah. Why? Do I look like I’m old enough to be out of school?”

“No, I was just . . . it narrows down who you are, doesn’t it? I know you don’t want me to find out your identity, and well, isn’t knowing that you’re in school a clue?”

He was right. But somehow, to Nathaniel, it wasn’t a big deal. Like, it was something that made sense within what little information Reverser had about him. Even underneath his ridiculously outlandish appearance, he still looked like a teenager, or maybe people would assume he was younger than that as they tended to due to his short stature. But either way, his age implied going to school. Besides, there were multiple schools in Paris, so it wouldn’t be an automatic link to anything pertaining to Nathaniel specifically. 

Well, all that and the fact that Reverser looked about the same age as Nathaniel, being only a few inches taller. So he was probably a teenager too.

“People everywhere go to school. I’m sure you do as well?”

“Well, yes—”

“So there. Now we both know.”

“Yeah, I guess we do.” And for the first time that night, he fully smiled.

Reverser turned away, though his hand clenched Nathaniel’s even more tightly and the smile seemed to remain on his face. For a second, it was like everything else faded away, leaving just the two of them behind. It didn’t matter that they’d barely met or that their true identities had to remain a secret. 

They were a _team_ now. 

And they acted like it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is definitely not The Confession....but it kind of also is?


	14. The New Team, Redux

The next day, Nathaniel walked into the classroom an hour before class started. No one ever liked to show up that early, especially if there was nothing going on that day, and there wasn’t. But to his surprise, Marc was there as well, writing intensely in his journal. Not willing to break the unofficial “artist code”, Nathaniel simply took a seat next to his friend without saying anything or reading the journal over his shoulder. Besides, they hadn’t left on the best note the day before, so he didn’t want to upset one of his good friends. But when he glanced over to see the expression on Marc’s face, two particular words in the journal that caught his eye. 

_“Reverser”_ and _“Nathaniel”_.

“W—what are you writing?”

Upon hearing the question, Marc slammed the journal shut. “Ah! Morning, Nath.”

“Sorry, I just thought that . . . well, I thought I saw my name?”

Seemingly defeated, Marc adjusted one of his gloves and said, “Yeah, I mean—it’s not because I’m being weird or anything—I just, uh . . . had an idea and wanted to write it, that’s all. Nothing bad, I really promise.”

“Can I read it?”

“Might as well.” Marc shoved his journal towards Nathaniel’s side of the desk. 

Nathaniel skimmed through it. It wasn’t anything bad, as Marc had said, but he still managed to be surprised at the content. It was a short story of a group of students being saved from a technology-based villain who had cornered them in an alleyway. And Reverser, who’d happened to be on patrol alone, landed and saved them. And Nathaniel was one of the students. It was well-written, but Nathaniel couldn’t help but wonder if Marc had noticed his weird crush on the hero, which is why his name would’ve been mentioned. Had he seen Reverser save him from the pigeons? That must’ve been it, and Marc, with his sharp eye for detail, had noticed how flustered Nathaniel got. Then again, Marinette, Alix, Kim, and Adrien were in the story too, so maybe not.

“Can I ask . . . ?”

“Yeah, uh, I just wanted to write something about the new heroes, and I wanted it to be about one of them saving civilians from danger because they did a great job with that the other day, and uh, your name was one of the ones I thought of? Since Reverser saved you from the pigeons?”

Nathaniel couldn’t answer for a moment. So he’d been wrong? It was just a coincidence? Man, if only Marc knew that he was Mightillustrator . . . it would’ve made the story a lot more interesting. But he wasn’t prepared to tell him that yet.

“Um, Nath? Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I want to make a comic book with you.” Nathaniel blurted.

Marc froze. “What?”

“I’ve been reading and rereading through the journal that you gave me. Your writing is really good, like professionally-published-level. And I would absolutely love to work on something that we could get published together. I’ve been wanting to draw a comic book for a while, but I’m really not good at words and writing, so I was thinking before that if you wanted to, we could work together. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you do . . .”

Marc’s face lit up. “ _Yes!_ That sounds like fun.” 

“Really? If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“No, I do!”

“Oh! Okay!” Nathaniel paused, thinking. “Then, uh, do you want to meet up tomorrow or something and get started? Like, at the coffee shop again? We could go in the morning again, or maybe after school?”

“Wait, you’re not planning to go with Alix?”

“No . . . and even if we were, you could come too. Alix thinks you’re pretty cool.”

“Haha yeah, but if it’s something you two like to do, then I don’t want to intrude, since you’re such good friends and all—”

“No, you’re fine! You wouldn’t be intruding! And I had a really great time when it was just us.” Nathaniel bit his lip, wishing he hadn’t added that last part. But why did it matter? Marc was his _friend_ , that was the type of thing friends said to each other, right . . . ?

Who was he kidding? He’d already admitted his feelings about Marc to Reverser, so why couldn’t he admit it to himself? He didn’t _want_ to like Marc like that—or Reverser, for that matter—since he’d already had too much heartbreak with his crush on Marinette. But he did. And he couldn’t do anything about it. 

“Just . . . us?” Marc asked, his cheeks flushed with pink.

Nathaniel glanced away. He knew he’d made Marc feel awkward, and he hated that thought. Why did he have to ruin nearly every friendship because of stupid hormones? At this rate, Alix would be his only friend left. He’d gotten lucky with Marinette, but if he kept this up, there’s be no Marc, no Reverser . . . “Only if you want.”

“I do!”

“Oh! Alright.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Nathaniel attempted to guess what Marc was thinking at the moment, but he couldn’t place it at all. His face was like a mask of no emotion, just bright green eyes, strands of shiny raven hair covering his forehead, soft lips with a light sheen of lip gloss . . .

Nathaniel broke the eye contact. He needed to _stop_ , immediately.

“So . . .” Marc clasped his hands together, leaning back against the bench. His expression seemed slightly pained, but his voice was steady. Had he picked up on Nathaniel’s prolonged eye contact? “How was everything with the attack last week? I heard that you got saved by Reverser. Isn’t he, uh, your favorite of the two?”

“Oh, yeah I did . . .” Why did Marc have to bring that up too? Nathaniel knew, just _knew_ that he was blushing again. Alix made fun of him for that, that his face tended to match his hair whenever he got embarrassed. He’d been playfully teased about his bright hair color for years, so that didn’t bother him. It was all a joke, and multiple people had said they wished they had his hair color anyway. But now he was acutely aware of the way he blushed and how it was incredibly obvious when he got embarrassed since he was so pale. “He’s pretty nice, I guess. Not that the other hero isn’t! I’m just thankful that he saved me and everything.” His awkward smile had to be genuinely uncomfortable to see at this point, but even though his cheekbones ached, he couldn’t help it.

Alix walked into the classroom then, followed close behind by Max and Kim, who were currently having a debate on something. If Nathaniel knew Alix and her expressions half as well as he thought he did, she was genuinely invested in the debate, just didn’t want to seem that way. They all had drinks, though from a different, more “fast food” sort of place instead of the café, and Alix had three of them on a cup carrier. As soon as she got to the back of the class, she handed one to Nathaniel and then asked, “Hey Anciel, you good with a latte?”

“Oh! You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Yeah, I know. So, latte or no? If not, Nath could probably share his boring black coffee, though I have no idea how he drinks that stuff. It tastes like licking coffee grounds.”

Marc laughed. “I’ll take the latte, thank you.”

Alix nodded, sliding the drink over to his side of the desk. “So where’d you go during the attack last week? With the freaky pigeon guy?”

“Where’d _I_ go?” Marc glanced around wildly, as if someone else in the room was going to give him the answer. When no answer came, he said, “Uh, just in an empty classroom. I lost my journal and got scared, so I hid. Sorry, I really didn’t mean to make anyone worry.”

“You’re good.” Alix said, resting her hand on her hip. “And a lot more quick-thinking than this loser.” She motioned to Nathaniel. “Dude got himself trapped, then saved by his celebrity crush.”

“Alix!” Nathaniel cried, alarmed.

“What? I was just kidding. I know who you’ve got a thing for, anyway.”

_“Alix!”_

Marc laughed, albeit shakily. “W-what?”

“It’s just a joke. I swear I don’t actually have a crush on either of the heroes.” 

But denying it was almost worse than admitting it. Like he wasn’t being true to himself. Marc was one thing, he was someone that Nathaniel didn’t want to ruin his already-tenuous friendship with. But to anyone who didn’t know he was Mightillustrator, Reverser was just a celebrity. Nothing more would come from it. And even Nathaniel knew that, but he still found himself inexplicably drawn to his heroic partner. Reverser's striking look—which had become less and less uncanny to look at and more and more artistic—and his mysterious, slightly somber personality was like bait, something that made Nathaniel want to learn more and engage with him. Still, Reverser could be _anyone_. His voice was distorted, so guesses couldn't be made based on that, and his hair and skin colors were intentionally monochromatic, leaving no hints as to his actual identity such as possibly dark hair. The only things Nathaniel knew were that Reverser was a guy, he had a crush on a guy who didn’t like him back, and he was young enough to go to school. That wasn’t much to go on. 

“Oh! Yeah! A joke, haha.” Marc nodded, almost a little too enthusiastically.

“. . . right.” 

Nathaniel glanced between Marc, whose expression mimicked someone who’d just walked into the wrong class while the teacher was speaking, and Alix, who was rolling her eyes. Fair, his crushes weren’t exactly subtle. If she was any more pushy, she would’ve made Nathaniel ask Marc out the first day of school. Thank goodness she wasn’t. 

. . . or maybe he kind of wished she was.

To be honest, he really wanted to admit his feelings. To either Reverser _or_ Marc. 

But he knew deep down that as much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted to set his feelings and set them free, hoping that the others would at the very least react like Marinette and still want to be friends, he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t be able to if the opportunity arose, as either Nathaniel or Mightillustrator.

He knew he needed that push.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel really went through every emotion in this chapter, huh


	15. Identities and Drawings

“ . . . so we could do something more action-oriented. Or we could do more slice-of-life, depending on what you want to write.” Nathaniel explained, taking a seat in one of the booths at the café after school. Unfortunately, it happened to be the side of the booth that Marc was already in, causing the writer’s heart to surge. “From what I’ve read, you’re good at writing both, but what do you think your strength is in?”

“Uh . . .” Marc clutched his newly-returned rainbow journal to his chest. “I don’t know. I like adventure, but I prefer that genre when there’s . . .”

“When there’s what?”

Marc suddenly became very interested in his shoes. “I don't know, maybe romance?"

“Romance is good! And I personally prefer adventure too. Did you want to add a bit of romance to whatever our story is?"

“What _is_ our story?”

Nathaniel bit his lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” he admitted. “But we can figure that out, too. It really doesn’t matter, I’m just glad I have such a good writer to work on it with.”

“Ah, thanks!” Marc inhaled sharply. What was _that_ supposed to mean? “Uh, for ideas, maybe we could look at some of your drawings that you’ve sketched out? If you have them. I know that you have your sketchbook with you, but I don’t know what drawings you have! Because that’d be weird to know. Sorry, I shouldn’t even have said anything.”

“Thanks! Wow, that’s not what I meant to say. I mean, I’m glad you’d want to look at my drawings, I know they’re not that good. But I’m glad you like them.” Was Nathaniel rambling too? Somehow, it made Marc feel better, if only a little bit. 

“I do! You capture people so well with only a pencil and some paper.” And that had to be the most randomly poetic sentence Marc had ever said. “It’s like the subjects of your drawings come to life.”

Nathaniel nearly choked on his coffee. “Uh, thanks! That’s nice of you. Anyway, like you suggested, I’ll get out my drawings now, and we can look through them.”

But before they could even start to page through Nathaniel’s sketchbook and Marc’s journal, a loud discussion from behind interrupted them. Both boys turned around, only to reveal Marinette, Adrien, Alya, and Nino sitting together at a table. They must’ve arrived after Marc and Nathaniel, neither of whom noticed. Alya was the one talking, and while her words still weren’t easy to make out, Marc heard the name “Reverser” and now his full attention was trained on them.

“. . . it has to be a lead to their identities. It’s not much, I know, but it’s something.” Alya insisted. 

“Yeah, but maybe they don’t want their identities to be known by everyone?” Marinette suggested, taking a sip of her hot chocolate between words. “It’d probably be safer for them that way.”

Alya shrugged. “It’s just a theory. If I found out, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“What theory?”

That question came from Nathaniel, who’d called out to them from his booth. Marinette and Alya, who’d been sitting together, turned in surprise, then recognition dawned on their faces. And Marientte nodded towards Marc, giving him a subtle wink. Marc’s face burned. He’d _told_ _her_ the confession fell through; he didn’t need her pushing it further! Good thing Nathaniel hadn’t noticed, or else he’d be really confused. 

“Oh, hey Nathaniel! I thought of a lead as to the identities of Reverser and Mightillustrator! Well, mostly Reverser. And yes, I know it’s safer if they stay anonymous, I’ve been told—”

Marinette laughed.

“—but a couple things just clicked and I _had_ to tell someone!”

“Oh?” Nathaniel asked. “What clicked?”

Nino joked, “Aw, c’mon Nathaniel! You got her going again!”

“Very funny, Nino.” But her smile made it clear she didn’t mind the affectionate teasing. “What I noticed was that Reverser showed up mere minutes after the pigeons first attacked. As if he knew because he was already at the school. Due to the news broadcasts that I checked, the school was one of the first places that the pigeon guy targeted, so it was near impossible for Reverser to have heard of it elsewhere. So I think that Reverser’s civilian identity goes to our school. Mightillustrator could too, but he arrived later, so there’s no definite proof.”

Oh . . .

Oh no.

“Hmm . . .” Marc muttered aimlessly, not really intending to say it out loud. When the attention turned to him, however, he added, “But, uh, then who do you think Reverser is?” That was the most people he’d spoken to in a while, which sparked his anxiety, but it still gave him less of a rush than trying to confess to Nathaniel. He attempted to shove down the thoughts of how pathetic he was while listening for Alya’s answer.

“I'll admit, that’s all I’ve got figured out. He could be anyone.”

Marc let out a subtle breath. So he _wasn't_ about to be found out anytime soon. That was fairly relieving. 

“Might not be a ‘he’ though.” Marinette spoke up. “Reverser is fairly androgynous.”

“True, true. Though Mightillustrator’s a guy for sure. What kind of name is _Mightillustrator_ , anyway?”

 _That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering,_ Marc thought, trying to keep a smile from forming. His heroic partner hadn’t been kidding about not being good with words. He also wasn’t exactly against the idea of the public being so unsure of his identity that they didn’t know his gender. That sometimes happened when he was Marc, but it seemed to happen even more when he was Reverser. Which was honestly not the worst possible outcome, as that just decreased his chances of being found out. 

“What about the theory that Marinette’s Reverser?” Adrien asked, grinning at the girl in question. Now was her turn to blush as she stammered out some sort of reply, while Adrien responded with, “Just kidding of course, we were hiding together when Reverser showed up.”

“Y-yeah. Together,” Marinette attempted to reply.

“Oh, that’s a good question!” Alya spoke up. “I hadn’t thought about who at our school went missing during the attack.”

“I think there’s too many people to figure that out, unfortunately.” Adrien told her. “But I know all four of us were there during the attack, as well as Chloé, if that helps.”

“And Nath and I saw each other during the attack!” Marc blurted. He really hadn’t wanted to be the center of attention again, but if it meant making sure his identity was safe, it was worth his. He wasn’t going to get rid of his new outlet for his insecurities, at least not yet.

“We did.” Nathaniel agreed. “And then we were separated and I got trapped, but . . . did you see? Reverser saved me from the pigeons.”

“I didn’t hear!” Marinette exclaimed. “What happened?”

While Nathaniel relayed his story to the others, Marc focused his attention on the drawings in the artist’s sketchbook. They hadn’t had a chance to go through them yet, but instead of listening to his actions as Reverser, Marc figured he’d just start looking for inspiration. 

Just as expected, the first half of the sketchbook had pages filled with random doodles of objects, people, and little comic strips. All of it was super vague and abstract, minus a couple portraits. One was a portrait Marc remembered hearing about, something that was supposed to be a commission, but then the person in question ended up not paying so all the work was for nothing. The other portraits were of Marinette, and captured her quite well, as well as capturing Nathaniel’s obvious fondness for her.

Later on, the sketchbook turned to mostly comic strips, many being random stories taking place at their school. Those were the most fun, even though the story couldn’t be fully understood with the blank speech bubbles. Marc was able to pick out panels of Kim and Alix racing, of Rose and Juleka playing music together, of Nino and Max putting together a set of turntables. 

The next few pages were surprisingly filled with doodles of Reverser and Mightillustrator, fighting villains sometimes, but other times, just talking or shaking hands. While it was strange to see himself as a hero immortalized in comic book format, Marc absolutely loved the way they were drawn, with the lines dynamic and the expressions vivid. Nathaniel definitely had the potential to be a professional comic artist, if he so desired.

And then . . .

Marc flipped the page to reveal another portrait. 

But it wasn’t a commission.

And it wasn’t Marinette.

Marc stared at the paper, and a pencil version of himself stared back.

It really did show his likeness well, meaning that Nathaniel had put a lot of effort into it. Every strand of hair, his eyelashes, the fine details of his hoodie, it all was captured in the drawing to a near-perfect level. Drawing-Marc was staring into the distance as if he’d just seen something unexpected, his lips slightly parted in an expression of surprise with focused eyes to match. 

Nathaniel happened to glance away from his current conversation, and when he noticed what Marc was looking at, his eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry. Uh, I was just doing some portrait practice?”

“That’s me.” Marc said dumbly.

“Yeah, uh . . . sorry. It was just portrait practice.” he repeated, slamming the cover of his sketchbook down. “Sorry if I made you feel awkward or something, I just—”

“No, it looks great! I was just surprised, since we haven’t been friends that long—”

“But I _wanted_ to draw you. Ah! I mean, you have a nice, uh, aesthetic?”

Marc really wished that he could see Marinette’s face at the moment. She would probably be absolutely _losing_ it, thinking that this meant he liked Marc back or something. But that couldn’t be it; he was drawing Reverser and Mightillustrator, along with the numerous sketches of other students at their school. Granted, not portraits of any of them, but still. 

“Thanks.” Marc murmured, sipping his coffee. 

Nathaniel looked away. “Mmhm.”

That gave Marc the opportunity to glance up and make eye contact with Marinette, who gave him a very deliberate smile, as if to tell him to make his move. But he couldn’t. This didn’t mean anything, it _couldn’t_. It was just too good to be true.

But even after Nathaniel recovered enough to tell the others it was nice to talk to them, then turn back to Marc and start discussing and flipping through some of his sketches like nothing had happened, the smallest pinprick of questioning stayed firmly in Marc’s mind. He tried not to get his hopes up, especially since there was hardly any evidence that Nathaniel wasn’t straight, much less that he would ever be into someone like Marc. Maybe it was all platonic and there was nothing that was between them besides their established friendship. That was the most likely option, given their history together.

But . . . maybe there was more.

No. There couldn't be.

Marc had no way of knowing. But either way, he managed to notice that Nathaniel was intentionally avoiding turning back to Marc’s portrait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're getting there, don't worry.
> 
> Also, Alya's not wanting to get them exposed or anything, she's just excited and curious. If she were to find out their identities, she genuinely wouldn't tell anyone.


	16. The Plot Thickens

“Reverser, look out!”

Those were the last words Nathaniel was able to yell before the villain’s sword swung towards the black-and-white hero’s arm and made contact. Reverser recoiled, eyes widened beyond what seemed possible. At first he didn’t seem too injured, but his hoverboard wobbled with the sudden movement. And in an instant, his sharp backstep caused him to step off of the hoverboard and fall.

He only screamed once.

And he’d been several stories high . . .

In a panic, Nathaniel rushed forward to where he hoped Reverser would land. Then he scribbled on his tablet as fast as possible, creating one of those foam-filled soft pits that kids play in. And just a precaution, he added some pillows to cushion the landing. It looked absolutely stupid, but it would hopefully soften the fall, and it was all he could think of under pressure. He also knew his partner would probably make it, but . . . his breath caught. What if Reverser was falling too fast? What if the villain tried something else? What if he _didn’t_ make it? 

Nathaniel held his breath as he waited that last second, able to do nothing as his partner, _his friend,_ plummeted from the sky. And then let the breath go when Reverser landed safely.

He leaned on the edge of the foam pit, clutching the railing. “Are you okay?”

“Foam? _Really?_ ”

Good, if Reverser was able to tease him, he wasn’t too badly injured.

“It’s all I could think of. How’s your arm?”

Reverser sat up and glanced to the side, narrowing his eyes in what looked to be shame. “It hurts. I think it might be sprained. And that’s my dominant hand, so I’m not sure if my paper planes will be well-aimed any longer . . .”

“Then go! I can take this guy.”

“I can still use my other hand—”

“You’re hurt, which means that you shouldn’t be fighting. Go change back to your civilian form and get some rest. I can take him, I swear!”

“Well . . .” Reverser glanced back up to the building, where the villain had taken his attention off of the two of them and turned back to the rest of the city. Now would’ve been a great time for him to get away, especially considering that this villain wasn’t that bad. “Fine.” he said reluctantly. “But if you get hurt . . .”

“I won’t get hurt. Go!”

After the fight was over, which was about as easy as anticipated, Nathaniel stayed to help with clean up and damage control, as he tended to. His power to erase whatever he pleased tended to come in handy in these cases, and it helped that the street was pretty empty after the fight. And for the thousandth time, he thanked the heavens that he was ambidextrous, as using his left hand for all this hero drawing and erasing would start to hurt over time, but he could just use his right hand as a civilian. 

But his thoughts were occupied by Reverser and his injury.

They were superheroes, getting hurt was nearly part of the job. It was a given that their powers wouldn’t protect against everything, and since Reverser’s aesthetic was paper-themed, it only made sense that a sword would cut pretty deeply. But that did nothing to deter his worry.

God, he was such a loser. Obsessing like that over someone who already had a crush . . . not only did it make interactions between the two of them awkward, but it also was pathetic. If Alix knew that he was like this, she’d tease him relentlessly. She already wasn’t letting the whole Marc thing go.

Marc!

Was he alright? When the fight had started, Nathaniel and Marc were heading to the park for their second day of comic planning, as the first hadn’t exactly been productive. But then the villain showed up, causing Nathaniel to come up with some sort of excuse and run off. He felt absolutely terrible, but there was nothing else he could do. Marc needed to be safe, and Nathaniel could provide that security.

“Hey, Nath.”

He turned sharply, recognizing the voice the moment the person first spoke. He'd just been thinking about her. And sure enough, Alix was standing nearby, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She had her helmet and skates on, clearly just passing by when she happened to stop off.

And then it hit him. He wasn’t Nathaniel at the moment. 

He was Mightillustrator.

Had she . . . ?

“Uh, no? Not Nath, sorry.” But his voice crack didn’t help. 

“Mmhm.” She tilted her head, as if to say _can you believe this guy?_ “You think I wouldn’t eventually figure out that my best friend was one of the heroes of Paris? I’ll give it to you, though, you did a good job trying to hide it.”

Desperately reaching for any semblance of hiding his identity, Nathaniel stammered, “I-I don’t know what you’re—”

“Oh yeah, I’m _so_ sure.” Alix glanced around, noting that several people were returning to the scene of the fight. It wasn’t safe for them to have what seemed like an inevitable talk, at least not at the moment. She leaned closer and muttered, “Come talk later, you know where to find me. Where’s Reverser?”

“He’s injured.” 

Nathaniel wasn’t about to fully admit that she was absolutely right, but he definitely needed to get out of there before someone got suspicious over their conversation. Leaving the situation was the priority . . . then he could deal with Alix’s new revelation later.

She nodded. “'Kay. See you later.” And with that, she took off on her skates.

As soon as Alix was gone, Nathaniel cast one more glance over the area, looking for any sort of debris left. And okay yeah, he was looking for any sight of Reverser, even though he knew in his heart that the other hero had been long gone. But he did notice a small figure hiding at the corner of a building, a highly specific figure in a red hoodie and a rainbow shirt.

The building that Marc was hiding by was right by where Nathaniel needed to transform back, so on his way over, he stopped by the writer. He promised himself that it was just to check if Marc was okay, that there was no other intention. Being able to impress his friend with his heroic form was definitely 100% not part of it.

When Marc noticed that he was no longer alone, he froze, eyes widened. “Oh!”

Nathaniel held up his hands, as if to surrender. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you! You just, uh, looked like you were near the scene of the fight, so I was just making sure that you’re okay? You _are_ okay, right?”

“Yeah! I’m good, don’t worry!” Marc met his gaze with a smile.

For a moment, Nathaniel was taken aback by Marc’s casual reply. Sure, Marc wasn’t exactly incapable of talking to others, but somehow, he was a lot more . . . calm when he was speaking to Mightillustrator. 

_What if Marc was just uncomfortable around Nathaniel?_

_The portrait thing really didn’t help his case, either._

Nathaniel bit back the instant negative thoughts. No, Marc always seemed enthusiastic to meet up with him for the comic or anything else. Besides, Marc had written about Nathaniel too, which was a pretty similar situation to the portrait Nathaniel had drawn. Well, besides the factor that the portrait was inspired by Nathaniel’s lingering feelings. 

He hated those.

But Marc seemed to be mostly unaware of that, at the very least. 

“Uh, Mightillustrator? Are you okay?”

Nathaniel blinked, recovering. “Yes! Sorry, lost in thought. Well, I’m glad that you’re not hurt, but unfortunately I have to go meet up with a friend now, so uh, stay safe, okay?” 

And with that, Nathaniel ran away, his face burning. He feared that someone like Alya, someone who was desperate to find out more about the heroes would notice that he was blushing. For once, he thanked his odd skin tone as Mightillustrator; maybe the purple would disguise his panic. 

As soon as he was able to be alone again, he quickly tapped the tablet and transformed back to Nathaniel. Okay, now what? Well, he wanted absolutely nothing more than to rejoin Marc and perhaps even continue their day, but he just couldn’t. Not while Alix knew his identity. 

So instead, he went directly to the Louvre, where Alix was currently helping her brother with one of the exhibits. Jalil Kubdel was currently ranting about one of his theories, while Alix, an obvious look of disinterest on her face, nodded and agreed whenever he stopped to await feedback. Then, as if it were her saving grace, she noticed Nathaniel and her face brightened instantly.

“Holdup Jalil, I gotta go talk to Nath about something really important. Be right back!” She waved to him, then skated towards Nathaniel. “Not here.” she muttered, discreetly shoving him into the next room. Jalil didn’t even look up, thankfully.

That room was empty as usual, so Nathaniel took a seat on the bench while Alix began skating circles around him. Nathaniel had his pocket sketchbook with him, so he took out a pencil and the sketchbook and began to draw. The room was silent for a moment while his pencil formed a head, then dark hair . . . Marc?

No. Reverser.

Nathaniel groaned, throwing the sketchbook onto the seat beside him.

“Thought you’d be too tired to draw.” Alix remarked, skidding to a stop in front of him. “You know, after all the drawing you did as Mightillustrator?”

It was no use trying to deny it. She had her heart set on her answer, and it was unfortunate that her answer couldn’t really be disproven, as it was the truth. So instead of wasting his breath, Nathaniel just nodded, looking anywhere but at his friend. “How’d you find out?”

“I overheard a conversation between Marinette and Alya about Reverser and Mightillustrator going to our school. You know, due to the pigeon thing? And then I just connected the dots. Man, I can’t believe I yelled at Reverser to go get you when you could’ve just saved yourself! Then again, I got your crush to carry you . . .” she shrugged. “So, who’s Reverser?”

“We don’t know each other’s identities. Alix, please promise you won’t tell anyone. I don’t want to be so . . . _public_ about this? And I really don’t want my parents or anyone in our class to know about it.” _Especially not Marc._

“Chill, Nath. I won’t say anything, your secret’s safe with me.” Just as his pounding heart started to calm down at the secrecy of his identity, she started to laugh, clearly trying to stop before she was in hysterics. “Lemme get this straight: you’re the class artist with very noticeable red hair, and then a new hero appears, and he likes to draw and has red hair. Oh yeah, _great_ disguise there.”

“I didn’t get to _choose!_ And it worked for a while.”

“You got me there. After all, Marc doesn’t know.”

Nathnaiel sighed. “Let’s not talk about Marc right now. Or Reverser.”

She started skating again, heading straight towards a bench that she liked to jump over. “You’re sick of boys already? I’ll say I don’t blame you, but you know I’m aro. You, on the other hand, have been obsessed with both of them for so long that it’s just kinda sad to see you give up.”

“I’m not interested in talking about Marc or Reverser.” he repeated, cringing at just the thought of being one of those obsessive people with a crush. He’d seen Marinette be like that sometimes around Adrien Agreste, more noticeable after Nathaniel’s crush on her had faded. But he definitely hadn’t been obsessive over her, which was only a little relieving considering that he’d never wondered about that with either Marc or Reverser. And just thinking about it all got exhausting quickly, past the point where Nathaniel wanted to focus on it. He just wanted to be mindless for a while, not discuss Alix's newfound knowledge, even though he absolutely knew how big of a deal it was that she knew. “Hey, I think I’m going to go home now. It’s not your fault at all, I’m just . . . tired.”

“Don’t worry, you’re good.” Though the look on her face clearly implied that while she didn't think she was at fault, she was worried about him. _Why wouldn’t she be?_ She just found out that he was throwing himself into danger daily, and she was his best friend. Of course she was worried. “See you at school, then?”

Nathaniel nodded. “See you at school.”

And with that, he finally was able to head back to his empty house, surrounded by only his thoughts and worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fairly long, but there was just a lot to fit into one chapter, so I hope you enjoy it! Also, it's worth mentioning that the story is heading towards a close, though there still are quite a few chapters left to get through. 
> 
> So, the chapter! Marc lingered so he could step in if he needed to, though he was injured. He wasn't comfortable just leaving. And as to who the villain is . . . I was thinking Darkblade, but since he's not exactly the focus, it's left unclear. 
> 
> And Alix isn't going to expose Nath, don't worry about that.


	17. Alone

Reverser wasn’t there that night.

Not that Nathaniel expected him to be. He was hurt, after all, and he probably needed to recover in his civilian form. Besides, Reverser didn’t show up every time that Nathaniel did. But Nathaniel had wanted to see his partner, just to make sure everything was okay. Reverser hadn’t reappeared after the fight, and his injury hadn’t looked good. Was that just because his arms were so geometric that a blow like that had shattered the stability of his form? Or was he actually really hurt?

All these thoughts swirled through Nathaniel’s mind while he sat on the rooftop, letting the wind blow though his side-swept hair and observing the night skyline. He didn’t want to admit it, especially not to himself, but he had gotten fairly . . . lonely.

Of course he had Alix and Marc, not to mention a good portion of his class. And Reverser, who at the very least showed some sort of platonic attraction since he was willing to open up. And Nathaniel’s family wasn’t emotionally unavailable or abusive or anything. But there were so many people he couldn’t open up and talk to, and even though Alix knew his identity now, she didn’t fully understand where he was coming from. Because no one did.

Eventually, he waited for about an hour before deciding that his partner wasn’t going to show up. It was the middle of the night still, but Nathaniel wasn’t ready to go back to his room yet. He was tired, so tired, but he’d already tried to sleep and it didn’t seem quite possible that night. So instead, he stood up and started a walk on the rooftops. Thankfully he wasn’t exactly afraid of heights, which had become even less of a problem now that he could draw anything to catch himself from falling, including a working jetpack.

After walking around for a while, he finally saw someone on their balcony, awake. Sure, there were people awake in the streets, but not at any of the houses that he’d seen. Which wasn’t good that someone could possibly see Nathaniel walking around as Mightillustrator, but then he was able to pick out who the person was. When he did, he nearly dropped his pen in surprise.

It was none other than Marc Anciel.

The writer was leaning against his railing, staring off into the distance. It seemed like he hadn’t caught a glimpse of Nathaniel yet, which was good, but he instead seemed to be almost dazed and half-asleep. He wore a white sweater with a horizontal rainbow stripe, black sweatpants, and slippers, which was somehow both similar and different to his usual attire. 

It was like clockwork. As soon as Nathaniel noticed Marc, the writer noticed him back, his head snapping to attention. “Mightillustrator?” Marc called out, eyes making contact with Nathaniel’s.

Against his better judgement, Nathaniel moved closer to Marc’s house to speak to his friend. _You’re not Nathaniel right now,_ he had to remind himself, _you’re Mightillustrator, and Marc doesn’t know you as a friend, just a hero._ So instead of approaching him as a friend would, Nathaniel quickly scribbled his signature jetpack, and as soon as it appeared, he took off, eventually coming to a stop near Marc’s balcony. 

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Nathaniel told him, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was on, uh, night patrol, and I was just heading back home. I think I saw you at the fight earlier; are you alright?”

“Oh. You remembered?”

Rather than just agree, Nathaniel attempted to play it cool, as if Marc could just be _anyone_. “I think so. You were the last person I spoke to before leaving?”

Marc nodded. “That was me. Do you, uh, want to sit down?”

Nathaniel cast his eyes towards the bench on the balcony that Marc was currently motioning to. This would’ve been his dream come true . . . only made a bit awkward by the fact that he was currently in hero form. But still . . . it’s not like he was ready to go home and go to sleep. And Marc was _inviting_ him.

“Sure.” He landed on the balcony, erasing the jetpack as his feet made contact. Then, almost in sync, the two boys moved to sit on the bench, a distance apart that was too close to imply that they were strangers, but too separate to be friends or more. _As if that meant anything,_ Nathaniel scoffed. He knew in his heart that he was just looking for meaning where there was none. “Are you sure you’re okay after the villain attack from earlier?”

Marc shrugged. “I should be fine. But, uh . . . what made you want to talk to me?” 

“Oh, you know . . .” _Because we’re best friends, and I see you every day at school, but you don’t know that I’m one of the heroes you write stories about, nor do you know that I’ve really liked you ever since we met._ “You looked lonely and I felt lonely.”

“Uh . . . yeah. I guess I _am_ lonely.” Marc admitted. He took out a tube of lip gloss and ran it over his lips, leaving a light sheen of pink behind. “At least, I am right now.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the ever-busy streets far below. The wind picked up strands of Marc’s hair and blew them in his face, not that the writer seemed to mind. He shivered slightly, swinging his legs against the bench. 

“So . . .” Marc broke the tension. “Where’s Reverser?”

“Didn’t show up.” Nathaniel glanced away from his friend, not wanting Marc to see the worry in his eyes. “I hope he’s okay. He got hurt earlier, and he said it wasn’t that bad, but I . . . I want to make sure.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Marc asked. His sweet tone of voice caused Nathaniel to glance up, to look into his friend’s eyes. His beautiful bright green eyes that shone like Christmas lights in the reflection of the lanterns on the balcony. He wasn’t drawing into himself as he tended to, but instead seemed almost . . . _torn_ about something.

“Yeah, I guess.” Nathaniel laughed bitterly. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make this your problem. I just . . . I think he’s a really fascinating—ugh, no. I think he’s pretty—no, not that. Well, I _do_ think he’s pretty—ah, wait! I meant . . . never mind, I’m not good with words.”

Marc attempted to suppress a smile. “You think he’s pretty _what?_ ”

“Just . . . pretty. Like, attractive. Agh, I’m so sorry, I’m not speaking properly.” And instead, he was just digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole, revealing a secret to someone that was, in this circumstance, practically a stranger. He highly doubted that Marc was homophobic, and he even suspected that Marc wasn’t exactly straight, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. But still, anyone finding out that one of the heroes of Paris liked the other one as more than a friend wasn’t exactly the best route to go, especially considering that the two of them had been in multiple broadcasts, and any mention of their relationship being more than platonic would’ve spread, possibly reaching villains. “But, uh, he and I aren’t dating! I just . . . think about those things.”

Well, there was no recovering from that.

“Oh. Wow, okay yeah.” Marc yawned, then looked back over at Nathaniel. “I know what you mean. I . . . I’ve been in the same situation. Or I am now. Because there’s this boy—” He sighed, leaning back against the bench. “Never mind.”

So there was someone Marc liked. Nathaniel had suspected it, that there was someone that Marc would’ve rather spent his time with, but his heart sank at the thought that it was a crush after all. And if it was a boy . . . that meant Marc wasn’t straight after all. Maybe if Nathaniel hadn’t been such a coward and he had asked Marc out right away he would’ve actually succeeded in getting to date at least one of the people he liked. But no, he just _had_ to work around his feelings and pretend they didn’t exist, then find out he liked Reverser too, which also wasn’t going to work out. 

Why did this have to be so _frustrating?_ If Alix knew even half of it, she’d lose her mind.

No, it didn’t matter. Marc was a good friend. If he was happy, Nathaniel was happy. Same with Reverser, actually; they deserved to be with the people they actually liked as more than a friend. And Nathaniel couldn’t say anything about it. 

“Yeah, I understand.” Nathaniel rested his chin in his hand. This was all too much for one day. “Anyway, I should probably be getting back home soon, but thanks for talking with me. I think I needed someone to talk to tonight.”

“O-oh! I’m glad I could do that.” Marc yawned again. “Well, I think I’m going to get some sleep now, school tomorrow and all that. See you later, Mightillustrator.”

“See you later.” Nathaniel agreed, getting to his feet. _See you tomorrow, Marc._ He hastily redrew the jetpack so Marc wouldn’t think that he’d be lingering on the balcony after the writer left. And as soon as Marc opened the hatch, waved one last time, and slammed it shut, Nathaniel took off back into the night.

Somehow, speaking with Marc had made him simultaneously feel worse and better. 

He wasn’t sure what to think about that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marc isn't avoiding Nathaniel/Mightillustrator or anything, he just wasn't up for meeting due to his near-death experience during the fight. But insomnia doesn't care about that kind of thing.
> 
> And this one was sort of short, but we're nearing the end! More or less, anyway.


	18. New Discoveries

“Nice job.” Nathaniel said, wiping his hair out of his face and adjusting his beret.

They’d just gotten through another fight, the second in the week with the first being the one where Reverser got hurt, and this time they’d managed to actually reverse the villain into not wanting to fight them any longer. That didn’t mean the fight wasn’t incredibly difficult, though, and now the two heroes found themselves in an empty and secluded alleyway, recovering before transforming back. Theoretically, Nathaniel knew that he could recover as himself instead of as Mightillustrator, but Reverser didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave yet. 

Reverser nodded, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Judging based on the expression on his face, he wasn’t upset or anything, just out of it. 

“Are you okay?” Nathaniel tried again. He made sure to keep his voice gentle. The other hero wasn’t using his injured hand at first, but he didn’t have as much aim that way, so he eventually resorted to using his bad wrist. It _looked_ fine, but given that he grimaced every time he threw a paper plane, it obviously wasn’t.

“Oh! Oh yeah. I’m fine, thank you. Just thinking about . . . you know, stuff.” He nodded to cement his answer-that-wasn’t-really-an-answer, his lips pursed. 

“Is it . . .” Nathaniel motioned absentmindedly, as if that would help explain. “Him? The guy you’re friends with?”

Reverser glanced around, eyes narrowed. Once he’d deemed the coast was clear, he nodded. “Well, about _love_ in general, I guess. I’ve been mulling over something he did that almost made me think he likes me back, but I also think it’s just hopeful thinking. And then I found out that someone else likes me . . . it’s just overwhelming right now.”

“Is the ‘someone else’ a girl?”

“No, he’s a guy.” Reverser looked back at the beginning of the alleyway, not meeting Nathaniel’s eyes. “Never mind, I don’t want to bother you with this. You must think I’m a hopeless romantic. I just . . . you know, don’t really have anyone else to talk with about this. My only friends are either the guy or people he’s friends with, and then you. That's all I have.”

“I don’t mind!” Nathaniel was quick to say. “But, uh, you said—what about your parents?”

“I said the earlier situation wasn’t about them. I didn’t say that we’re emotionally close.”

“Oh. I see.” What was he supposed to say to that? It seemed like his teammate’s life was a bigger mess than he let on, and nothing that Nathaniel did could fix it. “Uh . . . not sure it’ll help, but I won’t judge you or anything if you just want to talk.”

“Thanks, I might take you up on that later. But for now, I should probably get going soon.” Reverser gave a half-hearted wave, implying for Nathaniel to leave. “I’ll see you later, Mightillustrator.” 

And just as they’d done before, Nathaniel stepped out of the alleyway. But instead of making his way down the street as he usually did, he walked only a little ways and leaned against a building, thinking. It had been a rather abrupt end of conversation, but Nathaniel couldn’t exactly blame Reverser for not wanting to talk about everything for much longer. He just hoped his teammate was okay.

A sudden cry, not in Reverser’s distorted voice but rather in a voice that seemed neither high nor deep, came from the alleyway. 

Nathaniel’s blood ran cold. 

“Reverser? Are you okay?”

Then there was a thump and the clattering of feet. Was Reverser being attacked? In his panic, Nathaniel raced to the edge of the alley and threw himself against the building, ready to attack if Reverser cried out again. He didn’t want to look or rush in, just on the off chance that the other hero had transformed back, but if this was a fight . . . he wanted to be prepared.

What he hadn’t counted on was someone darting out of _his side_ of the alleyway, a hood pulled over their head. Not a black and white one though. And there was no hoverboard.

A red hoodie, skinny jeans, holographic boots . . .

Nathaniel covered his mouth in horror, averting his gaze.

But it was too late.

_Marc._

Marc Anciel, his longtime crush and one of his best friends.

He was . . . Reverser?

Nathaniel sank to his knees, heart thumping loud enough to hear. He attempted to internally rationalize what he’d, wondering if maybe Marc had run into Reverser while the other hero was in the alley, and the cry was from . . . being surprised? Surprise over meeting one of the heroes? And then Marc ran away . . .

No. Even as he thought it, he knew just how stupid it sounded. There had been no one else near that alley moments ago, so Marc either had to be faster than humanly possible or . . . 

Or he was Reverser.

Just the thought of it was difficult to fathom. Nathaniel’s hands couldn’t stop shaking.

Not that he was disappointed! No, far from it. But the thought that he'd been with Marc the whole time, that his sarcastic teammate was the same person as his sweet, shy friend . . . was more than shocking to think about. And fairly embarrassing, just because of all their talk of love and crushes.

Just to make sure that Reverser wasn’t secretly hiding in the alley, Nathaniel took a deep breath and stepped towards the entrance, shielding his eyes in case Reverser’s civilian identity was hiding there. Or so he told himself. He hated to think it, but he knew in the depths of his heart that he was just scared of what he’d see. 

If the alley was empty, it likely meant that Marc was Reverser. That Marc had been routinely throwing himself into danger like Nathaniel had, and had both fallen from his hoverboard and gotten an injury due to this. Which caused Nathaniel’s concern to spike. It also meant that Nathaniel had admitted his feelings to the very person that he was speaking of, which was absolutely embarrassing. That he’d crushed on the same person twice. And it meant that he’d been the one to spoil his friend’s identity just now, to accidentally betray his friend’s trust. Which was the last thing he wanted to do; he hated the thought of being untrustworthy to Marc.

He uncovered his eyes.

The alley was empty.

Well, empty other than a journal on the ground. Having nothing else to do, Nathaniel walked forward as if in a trance and picked up the journal. It was black, with a little bookmark sticking out of it . . . just like the one that Marc had found on that first day of school. Like how Nathaniel had found that pen. 

The pen that transformed him into Mightillustrator.

Did the journal transform Marc into Reverser?

Nathaniel couldn’t avoid the facts anymore. He’d been able to try and make up other ideas, to pretend that there was a way for Reverser’s identity to be someone else, _anyone_ else, but that didn’t add up. There was only one set of feet leaving the alley, no sound of the hoverboard swooping out, and Marc was the one who’d made an exit, leaving his journal behind. Also, why else would Marc have run away so quickly? It’s not like he wasn’t comfortable around Mightillustrator.

The paper airplanes suddenly made a lot more sense. Journals were full of paper . . . 

Nathaniel’s stomach turned. He’d spilled his feelings _about_ Marc _to_ Marc, who was none the wiser. He’d told Marc _to his face_ that he liked him. Both of his current crushes were Marc, and Nathaniel had been too oblivious to realize. The embarrassment was nearing an overwhelming level, to the point where Nathaniel sunk to his knees again and clutched the journal to his chest. 

Marc had been there the whole time.

He was the one who’d carried Nathaniel away from the pigeons.

He was the one who’d been there for insomnia-fueled talks about crushes.

He was the one who’d almost _died_ , falling from his hoverboard.

And the guy that Marc liked . . . it was the same guy that Reverser had talked about. The one that he’d tried to confess to, but panicked last minute. The one that he was worried would leave him when hearing about his crush. The one that Nathaniel had called a bad friend.

Who _was_ this guy?

And that meant that Nathaniel-as-Mightillustrator must've been the “someone else” Reverser was talking about . . .

He had to return the journal to Marc, he knew that, but should he tell Marc he knew about his identity when doing so?

He almost went with his gut feeling, to keep the whole thing secret, but something stopped him.

If he kept his newfound knowledge a secret, the thought would be unbearable to keep hidden. He’d think of it constantly, changing and possibly ruining his relationships with both Marc as Marc and Marc as Reverser. Sure, telling Marc might be a risk to both relationships anyway. But to make it fair, he’d reveal himself as Mightillustrator as well, that way there’d be no more secrets about their identities. It might not have been the smartest idea, but he was at a loss as to what else to do. It’s not like this was a common predicament that people often found themselves in. 

He briefly considered asking Alix for advice, but he decided against it, not wanting to spread the news of Reverser’s identity anymore than it already was. He’d made a mistake by looking down the alley, so there was no need to dig himself into a deeper hole. Maybe accidentally looking could be forgiven with a sincere apology, but he didn’t want to take his chances with telling even more people.

Nathaniel took a deep breath, attempting to let his lungs fill with air again. It wasn't anyone who meant him harm, it was Marc, his friend, the person that he cared for more than almost anyone else. Marc, who had been working by his side the whole time, whether it be a fight against a villain, a late-night talk, or just playful banter. He'd been more close to Marc than he ever thought possible. Which, for the first time since the discovery, made his heart soar. And if Marc wasn't too upset by the new information . . . they'd be even closer, knowing each other's biggest secret. He could only hope, anyway.

So there was nothing else he could do; he had to talk to Marc. 

Preferably as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marc's okay, he just leaned on his injured wrist when transforming back.
> 
> And just to be clear, Nath's definitely not disappointed it's Marc, just in shock and feeling a bit awkward. He needs a little time to process everything.


	19. The Truth

Marc had lost his journal.

He tore his room apart searching for it, but he knew in his heart that it wasn’t in his house. No, he must’ve dropped it when transforming and in his haste to leave after hitting his wrist by accident, he didn’t realize that he’d dropped it. And now anyone could have it . . .

Did this mean the end of Reverser? 

Mightillustrator would be so disappointed. And Marc had no way of telling him, not to mention that he personally would also miss Mightillustrator. He was always there to listen, even when it was just the same stupid topic every time. Mightillustrator didn’t want to hear about Nathaniel, Marc knew that even more since the hero had visited him at night and revealed that he had a bit of a crush on Reverser. That was definitely news to Marc, who now felt immensely guilty for rambling on and on about his own crush.

On second thought, maybe it was for the best that he lost the journal.

A knock at the window startled Marc from his thoughts. 

He glanced up, only to be face-to-face with one of the heroes, Mightillustrator obviously. The other hero was standing on the window ledge, smiling awkwardly as if he knew it was a weird situation but he still _really_ needed to be there.

“Mightillustrator.” Marc greeted the hero, opening the window for him. Mightillustrator climbed through and stood in the middle of Marc’s room, looking incredibly out of place with his flashy attire. “You couldn’t just erase and redraw my window?”

“Didn’t want to ruin it, also that’s invasive. Hey, I have to talk to you.” Mightillustrator paused, crossing his arms and sighing. His expression, while masked by the black markings around his eyes, showed that this was a discussion he _really_ didn’t want to have. “It’s important.”

“Is it about . . . you know? The last time we talked?” _About how he felt about Reverser?_

“What? Oh. No, it’s not. Actually, I came to ask if you lost a journal.” And the journal in question was firmly grasped in the hero’s left hand, held out to Marc.

Marc froze, his body wracked from the jolt of his heart skipping a beat. But . . . he’d dropped the journal in the alley. How could Mightillustrator possibly have . . . ? Had he been there?

“I assume you did. And I was the one who found it. I heard you cry out, and I wanted to help if you were in danger, but . . . well, you’d transformed back at that point and ran out of the alley. I wasn’t trying to unmask you, but I accidentally saw . . . well, I guess you’ve figured it out by now, but I know you’re Reverser.” 

The world seemed to stop for a moment. Time stood still.

He knew.

Some random person knew Marc was Reverser. That awkward, shy Marc Anciel was one of the heroes of Paris. And suddenly, the walls seemed to crumble, giving way to humiliation and defeat. Humiliation, because now it was like Marc as a hero was being projected to the world, even though only one person knew. And defeat because he’d given up. Trying to deny it would be useless.

He knew _everything._

“I—uh, yeah. I am. I’m j—I’m sorry.” Marc stammered, attempting to keep his emotions under control at least for the time being. He could cry about this later, maybe write about it too.

“Don’t be sorry, it was my mistake. _I’m_ really sorry.” And he looked it, his expression now having shifted to one of remorse, coupled with shame in his eyes. “And because I found out your identity, it’s only fair that I show you mine.”

“Wait, no! Don’t do that.” Just because Marc’s true identity had been found out didn’t mean that Mightillustrator’s had to be as well. In fact, the whole thing was Marc’s fault, so why did the other hero need to be punished for it? Paris could survive with just one hero . . .

“Why not? It’s fair.” the hero repeated. “And I haven’t really been honest with you, Marc. For the same reason as you, I think. I didn’t want you to be let down by who I am. I’ve thought that you’re amazing, both as a hero and as a civilian. Every word you write seems to immerse me in the story, every time we talk I’m enthralled, and . . . well, I’m not good with words, so I can’t really say more.”

Read . . . Marc’s writing?

No. He couldn’t have. No one read his journals.

“So I figure I’ll just show you.”

“No—”

Despite Marc’s protests, Mightillustrator tapped a button in the corner of his tablet. Light flashed, causing Marc to turn away as to not blind himself, and when he turned back, it took a second to process who had happened and what he was seeing.

Marc had been wrong earlier.

One other person had read his writing.

Where his partner stood was now his friend and crush, Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter and cliffhanger! Sorry to torment you guys, haha


	20. Revelations

Nathaniel was Mightillustrator.

 _Nathaniel,_ Marc’s crush and friend, was _Mightillustrator,_ Reverser’s partner.

It didn’t seem real.

Marc’s mouth was dry as he stammered, “I—it was—you were Mi—oh . . . oh god.” His heart had already been racing, but now it was pounding to a terrifying degree. Even in the heat of the moment, he remembered what his therapist had told him the year before, and he concentrated on his breathing until he could actually get air in his lungs and he could properly stand again. 

During that time, the expression on Nathaniel’s face shifted from expectation to dread. 

Oh.

He thought Marc was disappointed, which was far from the truth.

But this all meant . . .

This meant that now Nathaniel knew all of Marc’s secrets. About him.

They’d _held hands_. 

They’d been so close . . . 

And yet so far from each other.

“It was you . . . the whole time.” Marc finally spoke, straining to keep his voice as steady as possible. “You . . . wow. And you knew it was me when I transformed in the alley? And you came to talk to me about it?” Both of which were kind of a given, but Marc just somehow needed to confirm. 

Nathaniel nodded silently. He didn’t move otherwise. His face was mostly blank, but at a closer look, something shimmered in his eyes. 

Shame.

“Okay. And you figured out the friend I was talking about, the one I like . . . it’s you?”

Nathaniel’s expression twisted in first shock, then dismay. _“No?_ I thought it was some other guy that you wanted to spend time with and I was just keeping you from him. So . . . you _like_ _me?”_

“I do! I don’t really have any other male friends, Nath!” Instantly Marc regretted speaking as harshly as he did, which he definitely hadn’t meant. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I just . . . I’m in shock. And I just confessed that I’ve had a crush on you . . .”

Nathaniel glanced around and blinked rapidly, as if he was searching for something. The correct words to say, Marc assumed. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse: “Well, _you’re_ the friend _I_ was talking about. The one I have a crush on? So I’m confessing I like you too, twice over! Because I guess you knew I liked Reverser since I told you. And you’re Reverser! Well, you know that . . . agh, I’m not making any sense.” He paused, taking a deep breath as if that would undo his words. “Look Marc, _I like you too.”_

For the second time that day, the world stopped.

As did Marc’s heart.

They’d liked each other the whole time without realizing?

He’d shared his feelings with Mightillustrator . . .

Who was Nathaniel, as he knew now.

. . . and feelings had been shared back.

But they’d just been talking about each other?

How could they both have been so _stupid?_

The whole thing was too much all at once. Marc hadn’t been able to process everything yet, so rather than cycle through the motions of getting his brain to accept what was going on, he just started laughing. Laughing! He knew full well that it was an incredibly inappropriate response to what Nathaniel said, but he couldn’t help it. The whole thing was just so ridiculous.

To his credit, Nathaniel began to laugh as well. In fact, in less than a minute they were both sitting on Marc’s bed, laughing together with their arms wrapped around one another. It wasn’t even that funny, and they both seemed to know that, but it was like a sweet relief from all the panic that had accompanied their earlier conversation. 

As they sat together, far closer than they had ever been before, Nathaniel clasped Marc’s hands in his own, similar to how he had so long ago when the pigeons attacked. 

And this time, Marc didn’t pull away.

“Marc, what’s all the noise about?” Marc’s mother called from downstairs.

“Uh, it’s just me and my friend Nathaniel! He’s here to work on a school project.”

“Well, the noise from your room is incredibly loud for a project. Could you please be a little quieter?”

“Yes, Maman!”

“Sorry, Mme. Anciel!” Nathaniel called down as well. 

As soon as he finished speaking, he caught Marc’s eye. They weren’t laughing anymore. No, the whole room had taken on a slightly somber tone that seemed out of place, considering the circumstances. But a lot had happened. The atmosphere had shifted so many times that Marc couldn’t imagine writing it in one of his stories. 

And now they were _so close._

“You know,” Nathaniel began. “I _did_ have a crush on both Reverser and you at the same time. I told you the Reverser thing was a joke, but Alix can usually figure out who I like pretty easily. She also knew I liked you from the moment she saw us together. So . . . I guess I really _really_ like you. Since I fell in love with you twice.”

“Oh! Wow.” Marc sat for a moment, processing this information. “You got lucky then.”

“Yeah, thankfully I got a crush-turned-boyfriend without disappointing anyone. Uh . . . that is, if you want . . . god, I’m so forward. Did you want to . . . uh, you know what I mean? Be together? As in . . . I _can_ call you my boyfriend?”

“Aw, of course I do.” Did he even need to ask? 

Nathaniel let out a breath that he’d been holding. “Oh good.”

As a response, Marc softly leaned against the other boy. He usually avoided physical contact, as he never knew what the other person would think, but Nathaniel loved hugging and other small forms of intimacy, and if they were dating now— _boyfriends_ , which seemed like an impossible but true concept—Marc knew he wouldn’t mind. Besides, they'd been hugging mere minutes ago. And similar to his expectations, seconds later Marc could feel a hand running through his hair. His _boyfriend’s_ hand. 

Nathaniel spoke up, “I swear, I’ve been wanting to do this forever. Your hair’s always so pretty and—agh, I’m not good at talking like this. You know what I mean, though.” 

He seemed . . . calm.

And somehow, for once in his life, Marc felt the same.

“So what you’re saying is that I should’ve actually confessed the first time I tried?” Marc asked, unable to keep the smile from creeping over his lips. “Remember when I talked to you about it that night?”

“Yeah, I hated that you were so sad— _god_ , Marc! You could’ve died that one day!”

“What, the day that I fell from the hoverboard?”

“Yes! You scared me!”

“I didn’t _plan_ to have a near-death experience.” Somehow, he’d slipped back into his slightly sarcastic, joking tone that he’d gained when he was Reverser. Except he obviously wasn’t Reverser at the moment. Which could only mean . . . he was _comfortable_. So he felt fine with pushing it a little further: “Also, I should’ve known you were Mightillustrator; I don’t know anyone else who would come up with a name like that.”

“I know, you think it’s ridiculous.”

“Well . . .” Marc paused, unable to keep himself from grinning. “It’s very ‘you’.”

And both dissolved into laughter again, which eventually turned to a quiet, comfortable silence. A silence that seemed to be the ambiance for the room, as well as their current existence. There was still a lot to process about each other’s identities and how many secrets they’d kept, but for now, they were together and everything was fine.

As it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy pride month everyone :)


	21. Meeting of Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little more closure on the last chapter and some sweet Marcaniel moments

“Hey, Rev! Over here.” Nathaniel called, waving Marc over. The latter rolled his eyes at the playful nickname, but parked his hoverboard and took a seat on the rooftop right next to Nathaniel. Much closer than they had sat before.

Rather than heading out and hoping to meet up in their hero forms, Nathaniel had actually called Marc and asked if he wanted to hang out that night, since the artist was having major insomnia again. Marc had agreed, and now they were finally able to speak in their hero forms, which cemented the fact that they had indeed been working with their crushes this whole time. Not that it really mattered anymore, but it was a bit embarrassing how oblivious they’d been. There was _so much_ of Reverser’s personality that Nathaniel could attribute to Marc, and vice versa. And he suspected that Marc had realized the same, but with Nathaniel and Mightillustrator. Either way, it was near impossible to stop the overwhelming feeling of joy that their meeting gave, even though they still couldn’t use each other’s civilian names for fear of being overheard.

“Hey N—uh, Mightillustrator.” Marc covered his mouth but couldn’t hide the smile that crept over his lips. “So you finally figured out a nickname for me?”

“Finally, yeah! I’ve endured way too long having to call you by your actual name.” Nathaniel caught the writer’s eye, who promptly dissolved into laughter. It was still so strange to see Reverser laughing like that, but knowing that he was Marc greatly helped in combining the disjointed images of his friend as a civilian and his friend as a hero. “How’s the wrist?”

Marc held up his arm. “Not great. Think it’s bruised.”

“He got you good with that sword, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Not sure I’ll be able to write for a while.”

Nathaniel shrugged, taking a risk and putting his left arm around Marc’s shoulders. The other hero didn’t flinch, but instead leaned back against his arm and sighed softly. Nathaniel glanced over at Marc’s expression, then relaxed when he saw that the other boy appeared no less happy at their even closer proximity.

“Oh!” Marc exclaimed, startling both of them. “Speaking of writing, I have something for you. I nearly forgot, but I’ve had it for a while, and . . . yeah.” He opened his non-injured hand, revealing a crumpled note on notebook paper.

Nathaniel took the note and read through it, a smile growing on his face as he did so. It was poetry, really sweet and emotional, and with the level of professionalism, it could be a poem studied in his literature class, like from the 19th century or something. A couple smeared places indicated that water had been dripped onto it. Possibly tears? A pang ran through his heart just thinking of it.

“Was this the confession you wanted to give me?”

“Mmhm. When I panicked, I held onto it.” Even through his admittedly good disguise as Reverser, Nathaniel could tell by Marc’s expression that he’d become slightly ashamed. 

In an effort to combat those negative feelings, Nathaniel said, “It’s beautiful, thank you. And I guess I have to say thanks . . . thanks for sticking up for me when I called myself a bad friend. Though even if I hadn’t liked you back, I wouldn’t have gotten upset or abandoned you . . . sorry you thought I would. You’re such a nice person—so sweet—and I love being around you, if any of that makes sense.”

“Of course. You—you’re so sweet too. I really like you, Na—Mightillustrator.” Marc bit his lip, a soft blush spreading over his cheeks with either side of his face turning a mild shade of gray. “And you’re really not that bad with words.”

“I guess. But you’re better. Only an expert would write something like this.” He held up the poem. “And,” he added, shifting his voice to be more playfully eloquent, “a talented poet such as yourself deserves something in return.” He quickly scribbled a red rose, just as he had so long ago when he first became Mightillustrator, and when it appeared in his hand, he presented it to Marc.

Marc laughed, accepting the rose. “I feel like I’m Shakespeare and just gave you a sonnet or something.” 

Nathaniel joined in with his own laughter, their joint voices carrying into the depths of the night. That faded to a nice, quiet silence, disturbed only by the cars and people far below. But none of that bothered either of them, whose ambiance had become entirely content and enjoying each other’s company all the more, given how open they’d both become.

Then, all of a sudden, a thought occurred to Nathaniel. It was entirely random, but he ended up speaking before thinking through it, asking, “Hey, have you taken your hood off before?”

Marc tilted his head in curiosity. “Have I what?”

“Taken your hood off.” Nathaniel seriously hoped he couldn’t blush when he was Mightillustrator, as he could feel his cheeks getting hot again. Then again, Marc apparently could, so his expectations weren’t too high, and in that case he hoped it would be more endearing than embarrassing. “As Reverser, I mean. I just . . . uh, never mind.”

In a swift move, Marc pushed back his hood, revealing the shocking juxtaposition of his white and black hair. It was slightly messy, but perfectly parallel, matching his overall aesthetic. It definitely wasn’t Marc’s hairstyle, but it fit Reverser well. “No, I haven’t. My hair must be a mess since I flew all the way here. How does it look?”

“Beautiful.” Nathaniel repeated. “I mean, uh . . .”

Marc grinned. “Thanks.” 

Emboldened by his earlier comment, Nathaniel added, “I have to say, it’s kind of weird knowing that it’s been you this whole time. Not weird as in bad! Just . . . I woke up this morning thinking that both you and Reverser were cute. And now . . .”

“—I understand. It’s like I’ve figured out another side of your personality or something.” He focused his attention on the city far below. The wind tousled his hair, making it stick up in strange ways. “But . . . I’m glad I found out. I’ve liked you for a really long time, and—I always thought it was impossible for you to like me the same way.”

“I thought the same thing. And I thought that you just . . . didn’t like me that much.” Nathaniel admitted, turning to look at Marc, who in turn met his eyes. They were only centimeters apart now. 

Marc giggled. Nerves? Nathaniel could sense it too. 

Was this it? The big moment in romance stories? The one that Nathaniel had hoped would happen to him for years? How would he know? It’s not like he expected Marc to make the first move if that was the case. 

Well, then it had to be Nathaniel who’d make the move, then.

The artist made full eye contact with Marc, who seemed to understand what he was thinking about. Reverser’s— _Marc’s_ —appearance, still unsettling, still haunting, still alluring, bore more emotion than Nathaniel would’ve thought possible with such a simplistic duo-chromatic color scheme. It was the fine details that Nathaniel caught onto, the way his eyes seemed to sparkle with peace and contentment, the way his hair managed to stay symmetric despite being slightly wild, the way that he didn’t draw away but instead drew closer.

Carefully, almost worried Marc would yank away last minute, Nathaniel carefully placed a hand on the back of Marc’s head, lightly running his fingers through his hair like he had earlier. But earlier it’d been the only sweet gesture that was expected, whereas now . . . now there was more that he dared hope for. 

The writer seemed aware of where his thought process had gone though and turned even more. He reached out with his uninjured arm and quietly embraced Nathaniel, leaving his bad arm hanging loose. His eyes fluttered shut. 

Then Nathaniel closed the gap between them and their lips met.

He’d never kissed anyone before, though he’d dreamed of it. And being so close to someone, sharing such a private and sweet moment, was more beautiful than he could ever imagine in his fantasies. 

Suddenly bolder now, Nathaniel pulled his fingers further through the writer’s hair, still not breaking free of their kiss. Inspired, Marc pulled him closer and took a deep breath. Nathaniel tried to pick out what colors he’d use to illustrate the multitude of joyous emotions currently running through his brain and settled on light hues of pink and yellow, with bits of blue and purple added around the edges. And, of course, black and white. 

Eventually, they broke apart, but not too far. They rested against each others’ foreheads for a moment, both breathing softly. 

Finally, Nathaniel broke the stillness with, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, too.”

“Me too.” Marc confessed. “I . . . I really didn’t think I’d ever get to.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Yeah. And I know, it’s dangerous for us to show we’re together while we’re heroes, in case some sort of villain hears about it, but we’re alone for now. As long as it doesn’t make you worry, of course.”

As a response, Marc pressed another kiss, a light one this time, on the artist’s cheek. It was quick and tentative, as if he worried that it wouldn’t be reciprocated, but Nathaniel in turn met Marc’s eyes with a satisfied smile. They backed up, but still clutched each other’s hands, just as they had so long ago when they knew absolutely nothing about each other besides their budding friendship and their supposedly unrequited crushes. So much had changed since then; it was almost hard to fathom. They’d come so far. 

And then they sat together in silence, watching the lights of the city twinkle out and the sky become shades of orange and pink as night slowly turned to day.


	22. Finale

“So, I got us a meeting with an agent, but he wants to see some of our work.” Nathaniel explained, walking through the courtyard over to the stairs. “And if he doesn’t like it . . . well, we can look for another agent.”

“Fingers crossed that he doesn’t hate us.” Marc agreed. Though he couldn’t exactly cross his fingers at the moment since one hand was occupied by the coffee he’d just gotten from the café and the other was interlaced with Nathaniel’s hand. 

It was about three weeks after Marc and Nathaniel had revealed their identities to each other, and for once, things had gotten into a sort of rhythm. Marc’s anxiety hadn’t faded like he’d hoped, but at least he was, on a level, able to speak to Nathaniel like a person and not like a wreck. Probably because what had been his biggest secret was now out in the open, and no longer brought any strife into his dialogue. He still needed to work on not regretting everything he said when he opened his mouth, along with the irrational fear that Nathaniel didn’t really like him, but he was getting better at not worrying about those, and progress was all he could ask for. 

Nathaniel sipped his coffee, his bangs falling into his eyes. “If he’s going to hate us, I wouldn’t want to work with him anyway.”

“I’ve never asked; how do you drink that stuff?”

“Black coffee? It’s good.”

“You don’t even add milk or sugar or anything.”

Nathaniel stopped walking, causing Marc to stop as well though not without wondering why. But his question was answered when Nathaniel tightened his grip and pressed a light kiss to Marc’s lips, who in turn breathed in contentedly at their sudden contact. Not that it wasn’t common for them, but it gave off the same amount of pure serotonin in Marc’s brain every time. It was a feeling of pure bliss, being this close to someone that he never thought possible. He knew the feeling would likely become more commonplace the longer they were together, but it hadn’t faded yet, and he certainly didn’t mind. 

“And . . . I can’t add milk and sugar.” Nathaniel spoke up, as if he still had to defend his coffee tastes. “Black coffee is part of my artistic aesthetic.” 

Another voice interrupted their moment with “Hey guys!” Both boys glanced behind them, Nathaniel’s already-happy expression softening into a smile when he saw Alix approaching. She was on her skates, as usual, and caught up to them with a deafening screech. “How’s the comic going?”

“Good! We’re making progress for sure.” Nathaniel told her, holding out his sketchbook that was flipped open to their latest comic page. They’d finished its basic idea, Nathaniel just had to finish inking it before it could be placed among the other completed pages.

It was still so strange for Marc to see his words amongst Nathaniel’s drawings, but it also _fit_ , just like the two of them. Different but similar, complementing one another. Like Nathaniel’s fiery hair and dark blazer matching Marc’s black hair and the red hoodie he’d grown to love. Not that he wore the hood as much anymore; at least, not around Alix and Nathaniel. 

Alix nodded her approval. “Looks cool!"

“Thanks!” Nathaniel grinned. “We’ve got the whole plot worked out, now we just need to finish writing the story itself and drawing the panels. And talking about a sequel, of course.”

“If our meeting with the agent goes well, that is.” Marc spoke up.

“You have an agent already? See, I knew you two were meant to be together.” Alix shook her head, her expression implying mystification at the situation. “You should’ve listened to me about Marc ages ago.”

“Okay yeah, I didn’t think.” Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck, face flushed.

“That’s for sure. How did you even end up telling each other your feelings? Last time I checked, you were an oblivious dork, and no offence Marc, but Marinette told me that you were kind of the same.”

Nathaniel and Marc exchanged a glance. 

“It’s a long story.” Marc began, but before he could continue, an alarm went off. This was a new one, recently installed for the sole purpose of warning everyone of a villain’s attack. Probably an old one that they hadn’t quite defeated with a score to settle.

Students filed into classrooms, mostly just to get out of the courtyard. That was thanks to the pigeon fiasco, which had apparently scared a lot of people who’d been caught in the attack. Nathaniel and Marc exchanged another glance, this one with a similar yet separate meaning. The first had been to communicate how to best present the story of their budding relationship. This one was one concise thought: _go._

“Nath, Marc! This way!” Alix pointed, then kicked up her skates and made her way over to an empty classroom that no one had apparently taken refuge in yet. And sure enough, once the three of them had gotten inside, it was silent and secluded. The perfect place to transform and leave.

“Okay.” Marc announced, more to himself than anyone else. His voice came across as strangely echoed in the dark classroom. He took a deep breath. “Did either of you guys see where the villain was?”

“On the roof.” Nathaniel replied. “I think it’s the sword guy again.”

“Uh, Nath?” Alix gestured to Marc, attempting to communicate something with her eyes. “Don’t you need to . . . ?”

“Transform into Mightillustrator?”

Her jaw dropped. _“He knows?”_

Nathaniel glanced towards Marc, asking the silent question: _are you going to show her?_ Marc nodded. Alix would keep it a secret just as well as she kept the truth of Nathaniel’s identity to herself. Also, he was feeling far more comfortable around her than he had originally expected, just another confirmation of how good of a friend she was. Nathaniel nodded as well, confirming Marc’s answer and cementing the other half of the identity reveal. “He does. Better than that, actually.”

Nathaniel uncapped his pen, prompting Marc to open his journal to the bookmark and tossed it to the floor. As the light flashed, causing his transformation to occur as usual, the journal grew to the size of his hoverboard. He pulled his hood over his head.

Then the light disappeared and Reverser and Mightillustrator faced each other. 

This certainly wasn’t the first time they’d fought together since learning of each other’s identities, but it had the same effect for Marc every time. It was the other half of his and Nathaniel’s team-up, the other version of themselves. Maybe it was a little too poetic, but Marc quite enjoyed the complexities of their relationship having two parts to it, one known for being heroes and the other an up-and-coming comic book team. And with that, he’d become emotionally closer to Nathaniel than he’d ever thought possible. And even when they weren’t fighting, they were still inseparable while in costume as heroes. The late-night visits certainly hadn’t stopped, nor would they anytime soon. There was just a lot more kissing involved now.

“Ready to go?” Nathaniel asked, poising his pen towards his tablet.

 _“What?”_ Alix gasped. “Marc’s . . . Reverser? Nath, _how could you not tell me?_ ”

“Hey, I didn’t want to ruin his secret!”

Alix took a seat at one of the empty desks, arms crossed. “Fine, go, but only because there’s a villain. And you’re _both_ explaining this later, got it? This is a story I wanna listen to, especially with all the _‘oh, Reverser’s so cool!’_ and _‘aw, Reverser carried me!’_ pining that I’ve heard from you, Nath.”

“Mmhm . . . we’ll tell you later.” Nathaniel agreed. He tried to hide the clear embarrassment that had been brought forth at mention of his earlier crush, but the hand-fiddling and the way he shifted his weight was too obvious of a cue to miss. Marc hid his grin. It was weirdly refreshing to hear that Nathaniel had been just as bad about his crush, though it still reminded him of just how unaware they’d both been. Man, Alix was right with her "oblivious dork" comment.

“Yeah, go defeat that villain first. Not too quick though! Delay school as long as you can; there’s a math test today, and I really don't wanna take it.” She shrugged, as if this was a perfectly normal request. 

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and motioned towards the door. “C’mon Rev, let’s go.”

“You gave him a dorky nickname? Already?” Alix burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, I’m hearing all about this later. But you two should go! Seriously, before someone gets hurt.”

With that, Nathaniel nodded and flung open the door, holding it for Marc to glide through on his hoverboard, then slamming it shut behind the two of them. Sure enough, it seemed like the villain in question was on the roof, and the courtyard was devoid of anyone else. The perfect setting to refight one of their old foes.

Marc grinned sideways over towards Nathaniel. “Ready for a rematch?” 

“You know it.” Nathaniel agreed, scribbling his typical jetpack on his tablet. 

And soon, they took off into the skies to take on another on the list of villains, with Marc on his hoverboard as Reverser and Nathaniel with his jetpack as Mightillustrator. The feeling between the two in this type of situation hadn’t shifted at all, still being full of banter and quips, but alongside that was this true knowledge and understanding of their relationship that was unspoken, yet still providing background for their interactions. No one else would be able to catch onto this knowledge and understanding, mostly because it was such a deeply personal thing that had occurred between them. And since they’d had that experience, they’d become more than just another couple at their school.

They’d become a team.

Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!  
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you so much :)


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